Dead Silence
by uncreativefanficwritername
Summary: With the murder of his mother fresh on his mind, Sookie's son returns to her old town. Unfortunately,things might be worse there than back home. As bodies and questions begin to pile up, he soon finds himself biting off more than he can chew.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated. (This chapter has been revised)  
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><p>Chapter 1<strong><br>**

The house was a mess. In fact, to call it a mess would be charitable. Nearly two decades of dust blanketed the abandoned windowsills and furniture. Termite damage had all but put an end to what were once posts for the stairs and he didn't even need to see the kitchen to know what type of shape it was in. The floors desperately cried out for new carpeting he knew his meager savings could not provide. Everything in the house was near death. Holy hell, what had he gotten himself into?

He crossed the living room into the dining room, the chairs all arranged as she had left them, most likely. Cobwebs had gathered in the corners of most of the rooms he'd visited. While the wallpaper appeared to be in fairly good condition, all the windows were cracked or simply missing, allowing a fair amount of foliage to sneak its way in. He wondered how many trash bags he'd have to buy but quit halfway through the thought. He was never that great with math and thinking about money at that moment was something he'd rather avoid.

He picked up a fallen lamp, setting it aside before moving forward, further inside the place his mother once called home. Louisianan weather had destroyed a good portion of his new abode, but it wasn't completely unlivable. The water and part of the electricity were still functional and had been fixed before he'd arrived. Eerily only the master bedroom had been left untouched by the years of neglect.

Unlike most of the house, the bedroom was almost clean, though there was a small layer of dust on the wardrobe. The closet space was filled with belongings like clothes, boxes of holiday decorations, and a vacuum cleaner.

All in all, while the interior and exterior appeared almost haunted house-like, the old home still had some life for him to work with.

Why would his mother leave this place so intact, he thought, brushing his fingers across the wooden post of the bed. There were so many questions piled up in his head. What made her leave so suddenly? Why didn't she take all these things with her? He entered back into the hallway.

The lack of air conditioning and general state of disrepair left an unpleasant scent throughout the home. He'd packed some air fresheners in his luggage, which he was sure to use later on. They wouldn't take the smell away, but at least they could suppress the worst of it until the heating and air conditioning repairman was called.

He pondered whom he should call first tonight, an electrician or the pizza man. Considering his lack of funds and empty refrigerator, he leaned towards Dominos, or whatever pizza parlor was close by. Any kind of food would be good.

He checked the light bulbs in the guest room. They were dead like all the others. It didn't bother him too much though. He'd packed many of his mom's old candles and she would have hated it if they weren't put to good use. He would need to get some professional help down for sure, however. Bon Temps was not a large town by any means, so his options were more limited than back home.

Back home.

His mind drifted for a moment, his eyes watering. Memories tried to cloud his vision but he snuffed them. Breaking down now would simply be a waste of time. He had cried in the beginning. Slowly the pain had ebbed to a sharp ache in his chest. The funeral was next week, but she had been dead for a month. A month when he had left the only place he'd ever known, a month when he had met an uncle he never knew he had, a month that never seemed to end, never gave him peace from the haunting nightmares of that day.

He stopped and centered himself. His emotions were getting to him. He'd always been horrible at containing himself. Even in high school, well, before he dropped out at least, he was known to be hot-tempered. His "condition" made it even worse.

Returning to the entrance hall, he was greeted by the sight of his uncle. He was a handsome man in his late forties, though the wear and tear of time had taken its toll on his face and hands. His arms were still toned, the skin bronze and shiny, the result of years of pumping iron and hard construction work. His short blond hair was flecked through with grey, and his bright blue eyes regarded him with a kind, though sad, expression. The man led him to the porch. Bo leaned against the railing while his uncle sat on a wooden bench. It groaned under his weight.

"So…" he started. The awkwardness between the two was still there. Three weeks after meeting each other had not yet broken the strangeness of it all.

"So." The younger man replied. Neither knew what to say. His dark blue eyes traveled over the other man's face.

"I know it's not much. Hell, it's worse now than it was last fall. The place is in major need of repair. If you want me to sell it just say the word."

The boy put up a hand. "Uncle Jason, I've made my decision. Besides, your house is already full. I don't want to bother you guys any more than I already have."

Uncle Jason looked him dead on, his face serious. "You haven't bothered us at all, Bo. In fact, I'm happy I got to meet you. Family is family. Your mama helped me out of a bunch of shit when I was younger. The least I could do was take in my nephew." The crow's feet around his eyes crinkled.

"Thanks. That... that really means a lot to me," Bo said earnestly, a small smile sneaking its way across his lips. It had been a while since he had truly felt comforted, not simply pitied or regarded with suspicion like back in the Big Apple. Just like Bo, Jason had lost his parents, so he felt a little less isolated in his grief.

"I remember when your mama and I used to live here with Gran. Sookie was a tough girl, but sweet, too. I could never repay her for all that she's done for me," Uncle Jason said, the last part almost inaudible.

Bo silently agreed. His mother had protected him from a lot of things in his life. Now, without her here, life just wasn't the same. It wasn't every day your mother was murdered.

"The weather here is a lot warmer than in New York," Bo tried to change the subject. "Is it always so hot in August? It must be a hundred degrees out and it's not even lunch yet."

Jason laughed, "Nah, this summer's been especially nasty. Radio says it'll be sunny all week. But you look like you could use a little sunshine, son. You're as pale as a ghost!"

Bo glanced at his arms, their pallor stark in contrast with his red t-shirt. Ah, another one of his "ailments." He'd tried to tan multiple times, but the color faded after a night or two, bringing him back to this rather pasty complexion. Not to mention the raging headaches he'd get if he spent more than thirty minutes out of the shade. Bo hated having to put on sunscreen every morning. He would give anything for a nice tan. Alas, genetics were not on his side.

"I tend to burn easily," was his response. It was one of many in his collection of excuses.

"Yeah, my wife does, too," Jason said. "Hey, you feeling hungry? I know a place not too far off I'm sure you'd like. My treat." He picked himself up off the seat and headed towards an old blue pickup parked in the front yard.

"Anything sounds good right now," Bo replied, his stomach rejoicing at the offer. "What's the place called?"

"Merlotte's."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Thank you for the reviews!

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

The bar went dead silent as they walked in. It felt peculiar, all these people knowing who he was before he'd even introduced himself. Back in the Empire City he had just been another face in the crowd. In Bon Temps, however, he was the biggest story in town. Faces he'd never seen before scrutinized him like a piece of fruit at the grocery store. Most were just interested, others surprised, but all held varying looks of pity. He stared down at his feet, unsure how to react.

Decor-wise the place was rather typical. A pre-season football game from Sunday night was on the TV behind the bar. He hadn't kept up with the sport since his mother died. The tables were rounded with the exception of the booths, all following a strict code of green and brown.

His uncle dragged him to a wooden bar stool, shaking hands and patting backs along the way. He caught words like "poor boy," "how tragic," and other offerings of condolence, but other than that everything was a blur. These people knew his mother before he'd been born. And now? All that was left of her was some lanky kid.

A man from behind the bar came closer, a glass in hand. His hair was red gold, kept back by a small ponytail. He was around his uncle's age to be sure, but his build was slightly smaller and compact. He had on a gray plaid shirt with washed out jeans. When he caught sight of Bo he froze. He was scanning Bo's face for what seemed like an eternity before his uncle intervened.

"Sam! How are ya? Come to greet my new nephew?" Jason exclaimed, a smile reminiscent of his mom coming through. "This is Sam Merlotte, the owner. He and I have known each other for a long time."

"I'm doing well." The man named Sam said. "This Bernard? Sookie's kid?"

"Bo." He never used the name Bernard. It sounded too stuffy to him. "It's Bo."

"Oh, sorry," Mr. Merlotte replied, though he didn't sound very apologetic. "Your mother was one of my employees before she left."

By the look in his eyes, Bo thought it was probably more than that. He didn't press the man however. It wasn't any of his business. "Wow, mom worked at this bar? For how long?"

"Yep. She was one of the longest working waitresses I've had. She even took care of this place when I had... business to attend to." Sam responded after a short pause. "She was a great woman."

Bo mulled over his words. It was nerve-racking, how everyone knew more about his mom than he did himself. He had asked her multiple times about her past, but she was always tight lipped about it. In the almost 18 years they'd spent together, the most he'd gotten out of his mother was her hometown's name. It was how he had discovered his uncle.

"Yeah. Yeah, she was." Bo said softly.

"Hey Sam, you think we could get us some hamburgers, rare for me, and a double side of fries? The kid and I are starving!" Uncle Jason asked. "Oh Bo, what do you feel like drinking?"

"A coke would be nice." Bo replied. "I'll have a medium rare please."

"Alright, and two cokes as well, Sam?"

"I'll see what I can do." The older man took their order over to a waitress.

The meal arrived less than 10 minutes later. Quick service was always a plus for Bo. It reminded him of his old home.

"How's the burger?" Uncle Jason asked, munching on a stray fry from the corner of the basket.

"It's nice." Bo stated. It brought back some memories. He took another bite.

"Anything like what they have up in New York?" Mr. Merlotte said, laying down a beer next to the patron by his uncle. "Why did your mother move up there in the first place?"

Bo shrugged, "Don't know. She was pretty secretive about her past. I didn't even know I had an uncle until the police station found him. It was a surprise for both of us."

Uncle Jason nodded, "It sure was. Who would have thought Sookie had a kid? We all thought she had been-"

"Murdered?" Mr. Merlotte supplied.

Uncle Jason and Bo went silent. Mr. Merlotte's eyes widened. "So then, she really was-"

"Murdered?" Bo said. "Yeah."

It was still a tender subject to speak about, but the counselor they'd brought in at the station said talking it out helped to distance the experience. Over the course of a month the images had started to fade, but they still haunted his mind whenever he focused on them.

"Oh." Mr. Merlotte said with sadness. There was a flash of emotion Bo couldn't catch, but it had left before he could determine what it was.

The conversation soon confined itself to his uncle and the bartender, leaving Bo free to lean against the counter and stare at the other customers. Most of the initial excitement had died down, and now only a few of the more daring patrons cast glances at their party.

There was a group of whisperers across the room that caught Bo's attention, a gaggle of older women who didn't believe in going light on makeup or gaudy jewelry. One in particular, a woman with a perm that had seen better days, was the leader of the small discussion.

"She was a fangbanger, I heard. I remember seeing her with old Bill more than once at the bar. And those other ones, too. Hell, they all probably had something going on. She always did look a bit loose."

The woman, the leader, had on triangle earrings which matched her light green blouse, but those were the only things he paid attention to. She might have been pretty once, but years of child-rearing and makeup application had left little to appreciate now.

"Now Linda, don't be so harsh. You barely knew the girl before she left town." Another woman said.

"Good riddance, I say." Linda replied. "She and her weird... bizarreness gave me chills every time I saw her. And now look, she went and had some kid. Probably her own brother's for all we know."

"Linda!" A female with ebony hair whispered harshly. "Don't bring Mr. Stackhouse into this. He's a good, clean-living man. What's he ever done to you?"

Linda grumbled, "He ain?t done nothin'. But she and her oddness... well, we don't know if that boy is just like her. It's best to avoid him for a while."

Bo's fingers curled into fists. Flashes of white-hot rage flowed through his veins. He and his mother had never been the most conventional type of family, or even people, but these women dared to bring down his mother's good name not 50 feet away? He bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood. He couldn't just go up to them and confront them about it. What kind of human being could listen into conversations in a loud bar from yards away? It was rude, too. He promised his mother he would be more careful. Times like these tested his patience nevertheless.

Unexpectedly, another one of his little problems suddenly made itself known to Bo. It was slow enough for him to catch it. His shoulders arched, a hand flying towards his mouth. Of all the things to happen, he grumbled inwardly. He felt the sting pierce his mouth and grunted slightly. The bartender glanced at Bo, his eyes narrowing, but he said nothing.

Uncle Jason threw him a look of concern. "Hey Bo, you feeling alright? You look a little tense."

Bo's heart was doing backflips in his chest. He inwardly cursed himself for allowing this to happen at a time like this.

"I... I need to go to the restroom." He mumbled. Bo got up as quickly as he could and hightailed it to the john. Once inside, he closed the door behind him discreetly. Rushing to the sink, he washed his face. The cold water felt wonderful against his sweaty skin. But it wasn't helping his current predicament.

He wasn't sure when or why these problems started. Maybe he had always had them. He usually got them pulled once a year though. He would spend a few days sick from school eating gallons of ice cream and the problem was solved, for the most part. His other issues were much more manageable.

Bo should have been more careful. He had let his guard down and with his mother's death so close to that time of the year, well, it was no wonder he forgot. He ran a hand through his wheat colored locks, trying to calm himself out of this state. He checked the bathroom stalls before continuing on. Opening his mouth, he used his fingers to probe the new growths.

They broke the gums rather cleanly, the healing already taking place. They positioned themselves in between his canines and front side teeth. When he was younger, much younger, he had thought them almost cool. Now, at nearly eighteen years of age and stress at an all-time high, they were more than troubling. He looked like one of them for gosh sakes.

After all, what sort of human has fangs?


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All Characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

**Thank you for all the reviews. I decided to do a double post today. Please Enjoy.  
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><p>Chapter 3<p>

He had the problem for as long as he could remember. The lengthening teeth made for a lot of split lips and soreness when he was younger, and the eventual extracting and post-op were even more traumatizing. Laughing gas had little effect on him and stronger anesthetics simply left him feeling drowsy. Recovery usually took a couple days until he was somewhat back to normal. The extra teeth liked to deeply root themselves into his mouth bed.

His other problems were easier to hide. Well, most of them. He didn't want to think about _that_ one until he absolutely needed to.

Drying his face with a towel, he willed the protrusions to retract themselves. He'd need to find the number of his old dentist to see if he had any contacts in the state. He didn't trust just anyone with his teeth. Bo slowly watched them retreat into his upper gums. After a minute, only redness was left. He breathed out a sigh of relief.

His anger, while still heavy in his breast, had dulled down. He walked back to the bar and sat down next to his uncle, a forced smile plastered on his face. His uncle patted his back.

"Feeling better?" He asked.

"Mostly. Could we stop by a supermarket on the way back? I need to buy some groceries and cleaning supplies for the house. I'd like to get started today."

"Today? You're not thinking about moving in today are you? The house is filthy!" Jason exclaimed.

"I can at least clear the dust and unload some of the boxes. I need something to occupy myself until I can find a job." Bo admitted. The funeral wasn't until next week. Lounging about his uncle's home was already making him feel guilty. Bo liked getting things done.

"A job? Since when does a kid like you need a job? You should be enjoying the summer. And school is almost here, too."

"I dropped out remember?" Bo said, "I'll get my GED later. Right now a steady income is more important."

"Well," Mr. Merlotte piped up. "I think I can help you there. Our last busboy, Tom, just left for college and our oldest waitress retired last weekend. I'm a little low on staff right now so any help would be appreciated."

"Wow, really?" Bo uttered in disbelief.

"Provided you have some experience in the restaurant business."

"I bused at mom's joint on the weekends and played waiter whenever someone was sick, if that counts for anything."

"Good enough. When can you start?"

"Whenever you need me to, Mr. Merlotte." Bo smiled genuinely.

"Two of our waitresses are leaving town over the weekend. You can start this Friday at 7."

"Sounds good to me." Bo said. "Can you drive me, Uncle Jason?"

"Sure, kid. Just give me a call."

The ride to the supermarket was fairly short. Only a few people were there on a Wednesday afternoon. He'd gotten some glances from a few of the customers, but for the most part people left him alone. Bo bought five boxes of toaster strudel (who doesn't love toaster strudel?) along with less important foods and a pack of soda. The cleaning supplies were a little harder to find. The brands his mother used were not there. Thankfully his uncle pointed out the ones he used himself and even offered to come over on the weekend to help Bo clean.

Bo gazed out onto the road. Instead of the skyscrapers and crammed apartments he had known all his life, trees were scattered across the land, a sprinkle of houses here and there on the horizon. The buildings tapered off as they continued on. Overgrown flora began to swallow each side of the small road. To pass the time Bo and his uncle conversed for a few minutes. Bo asked questions. His uncle answered them.

"Are there any neighbors near the house? I noticed a house across the cemetery but there wasn't any car out front." Bo remembered seeing something through the trees, too, but he forgot to ask.

"There's Bill Compton, but you don't need to worry about him. From what I've heard, he's been traveling lately. He's not the sort to come out in the daytime either."

"Why not?"

"Well, because he's a vampire." Uncle Jason said. "I can't believe your mom never told you about him."

"Why? How does he know mom?" Bo frowned. He'd gone over the Great Revelation in class, but he'd never actually met one of them before.

Jason kept his eyes on the road. "They dated for a while, but she broke it off with him. They'd been good friends up until she disappeared."

"Do you know why she left, Uncle Jason?"

The older man seemed to visibly deflate. He suddenly looked ten years older. "No. I'd give my right arm for the truth. It's been driving me crazy since that day. Maybe Old Bill might know, but I rarely interact with him." Jason said. "Hey, maybe since you two are neighbors, you can ask him. He had a real big soft spot for sis, even after they separated."

"Why would mom ever date a vampire?" Bo had rarely seen his mother go on dates. It was hard to believe she'd had a relationship with one of the undead.

"I asked myself the same thing a long time ago. But Sookie is Sookie. And she had that... you know..." Jason trailed off.

"What?"

His uncle glanced at him from across the seat, confusion and disbelief clouding his features. "That ability of hers. Don't tell me she never told you?"

Bo stared him down. "I honestly have no clue what you're talking about. Care to explain?"

"It's... It was... She just had a way of knowing things, that's all."

They arrived at the house at a quarter to two. Bo had put on sunglasses when he felt the headache coming on. His skin had begun to tingle as usual. It always happened whenever he spent too much time outside in the sun. He put on sunblock in the morning, but his sweat had washed it away. Saying goodbye to his uncle, Bo entered the home quickly, putting away his groceries. Closing the old curtains in every room in the house, the tingling sensation began to recede after a few hours.

In the meantime, Bo scrubbed down the floors of the living room and kitchen. Afterward he ran the water in the kitchen and bathrooms until it went clear and then he used it to wipe off all the tables and counters. By the time he was done placing his clothes in the closest of the master bedroom the light outside was gone. He lit a couple candles around the home, careful to keep them away from anything flammable.

Dank sweat filling his nostrils, Bo decided to take a shower. Peeling off his clothes and sticking them in the hamper, he grabbed a towel from one of the cabinets and turned on the water.

Once the water got hot enough he stepped in, sat down near the drain, and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.(Revised)**

Thank you for the reviews!**  
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><p>Chapter 4<p>

The tears were unexpected. He hadn't thought he would break down so easily. This was the first time since the week of her death that he'd let it all out. The loss was still fresh in his mind. They'd had their disagreements. The day before she died he stomped out of the apartment because they couldn't agree on a curfew. He slept over at a friend's house. It wasn't until the morning, when he came back to apologize, that he learned of the tragedy which had befallen his mother.

Bo stepped out of the shower quietly. His eyes were still red, but he didn't care. Life had to go on. His mother was dead. He was alive.

It was rough the first few days. Hours passed by almost endlessly and the paperwork was terrible. Homicide was by no means new to the New York City Police Department, but the lack of evidence did cause some buzz. He first met his uncle over the phone, an experience that was awkward to say the least. The man was suspicious about the entire thing in the beginning, but who wouldn't be? A mysterious nephew who suddenly pops up nearly twenty years after his sister's disappearance? It sounded like a plot to some cheesy daytime soap.

Even now Bo wasn't entirely sure of what to think of his Uncle. The man was nice, if a little forgetful. Bo pondered why his mother wouldn't even tell him about her part of the family, much less his father's. What was there to hide? Sure, Bo had his abnormalities. Everyone did these days though. Bo racked his head for answers that would never come. Honestly, Bo never knew what his mother was thinking. She had been a mystery to him his entire life.

His stomach growled. Picking up his phone from beside the bed, he located a nearby pizza joint and ordered a pepperoni. They said it could take at least half an hour to reach his address. He sighed. Throwing on a pair of jeans and a white wife beater, he assembled a quick snack in the meantime.

He checked the mirror in the living room. His hair was still wet. His bangs were nearly on a level with his eyes. His last haircut had been in June. Bo searched for some scissors in one of the moving boxes. His hand went to his chin. He wouldn't need to shave for another week. Facial hair had yet to make much of an appearance to his disappointment. He'd gotten a few hairs here and there, but he hadn't grown much more than peach fuzz. He had a nice face, he believed, good cheekbones and a strong jaw. Sadly his baby face prevented him from being considered as anything other than the cute little brother type by most girls. It irked him.

As a guy who had never even had his first kiss, his self-esteem was less than stellar. Closer to shot to hell in his opinion.

Bo heard a sound from outside. It had been soft, but loud enough for his ears to catch. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. No one was around for miles and the pizza wasn't due for another 20 minutes. Bo broke out into a cold sweat. He could feel his heart pumping erratically inside his ribcage. He'd been jumpy since he'd left New York. It was his first time outside of the state. Bo picked up a softball bat he discovered earlier that day near the entrance. Gripping it in his right hand, he stepped out onto the porch and into the night air.

"Alright, come on out! I know you're out there!" He shouted, a tinge of fear in his voice.

Silence met his ears before he heard the footsteps. A man stepped out from the darkness. He was about as tall as Bo, though more filled out. He had dark hair and eyes, which only made his paleness even more pronounced. His features were unreadable. He was wearing a light-colored sweater vest, a pair of khakis, and loafers. There was an oddness about him Bo couldn't put his finger on. An odor quite unlike those of the townspeople or any other person he'd encountered filled his nostrils.

"You are Bernard, I presume?" The man's voice was cool, like an autumn breeze.

"Usually people introduce themselves before snooping into someone's yard at night." Bo said defiantly, though his voice came out weaker than he'd hoped.

"Excuse my behavior then." The man climbed the steps of the porch slowly, as if not to scare him. "My name is Bill Compton. I was a friend of your mother's."

"Bill? The Vampire?" Bo's eyes narrowed. What business did he have with him?

"I take it you have heard of me?"

The young man scrutinized him. "Uncle Jason said you and mom dated."

"Indeed we did." He replied, his expression softening for a moment. "We kept in contact even after she left. She asked me to watch over you in case anything happened to her."

"I don't need a babysitter." Bo responded with irritation. "I'm an adult. I can do things just fine by myself." He started to retreat back inside, his hand reaching for the doorknob. He didn't want to get involved with the undead. They gave him the willies.

"She told me a lot about you." The vampire said, his fingers drumming along the rail. "Have you fed yet?"

Bo stilled. His eyes dilated. He swerved his head back to the man. "What do you know?"

"Many things. I know about the dentist appointments for one. It was I who helped her find one. I also know about your hospital records, how your arm healed in only three days after they cast it. I know you are weakened by prolonged sun exposure and get severe rashes from silver. And the feeding... well, who do you think covered up that incident in middle school?"

Bo's breath hitched. "You've known about me all this time? Why didn't we ever meet? Why did mom never tell me about you?"

The vampire's lips drew into a thin line. "We agreed it was best to keep you in the dark for as long as possible. We didn't want... others to find out about you."

"Others? What others?" Bo said, his voice cracking slightly.

"That's a subject for another day." He responded. "Now, will you invite me inside?"

"I don't know." Bo admitted. His facial features were guarded, but anxiety was evident in his eyes. "I really don't know anything about you. Why should I trust you?"

"Because Bernard," The older man began. "There are those out there, right now, who mean to harm you. Like the people who killed your mother. There are things I need to discuss with you, in a more... private place, you understand?" He had reached the last step of the porch, nearly at eye level with Bo.

Bo mulled it over. This man didn't seem too dangerous. And he was a friend of mom's. Surely that meant something. Finally, he relented. "Okay. You can come in. But don't do anything funny. Got it?" He pointed at the bat, emphasizing his point.

"Yes, of course." Mr. Compton gave him a nearly invisible smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Bernard Stackhouse."

"Bo." He said, turning the handle of the door. "Just Bo."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Thank you for all the reviews! A huge thanks for Wandersfar who has been helping me with grammar and the like! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

They sat in silence, Bo in the armchair and Mr. Compton on the couch. Dust floated through the stuffy air. Louisianan humidity was near impossible to escape. The cushions were still musty, even though he had washed and laid them out to dry before the sun went down. Taking care of a house was a lot harder than an apartment. Bo was the tenant now. Well, co-tenant. He wouldn't inherit the house completely until he turned eighteen. The room was old-fashioned, the lamps and tables sporting Art Nouveau flair. The curtains were drawn. With only candles for light, Mr. Compton's figure looked even more haunting than it had outside. Maybe all vampires were like that.

"I remember sitting in this very spot the day I met your great-grandmother." He began, face relaxing. "She actually approved of our relationship," Mr. Compton smiled wistfully. "That was pretty progressive of her, for the time."

"What happened to her?" Bo asked. He had learned more about his mother in the past week than in the last seventeen years.

"Your mother didn't tell you?" Mr. Compton said, almost surprised. It was really hard to tell. His expressions were far subtler than a regular person's.

Bo frowned. "She didn't tell me lots of things."

"Your great-grandmother was murdered. The man who killed her is in prison for life, thankfully." Mr. Compton's fingers traveled to a frame on the table beside him. It was an old photo of his mother, but time had destroyed the plastic covering.

"You look so much like your mother." He said, scanning Bo's face with precision.

"Um, thank you?" Bo wasn't sure what to feel. Creeped out was quickly making its way to the top however.

"I don't have much time to stay with you. I can assure you, however, we will find your mother's killers. I have some contacts in New York who might have come across something. Many people are interested in this case." There was a severity in the vampire's tone, a coldness Bo couldn't pinpoint exactly.

"We?" Bo asked.

"I am not at liberty to say." Mr. Compton's face was unreadable.

"This is my mother. Please, please tell me who is helping you. Is there anything I can do to help?" His mom was a sweet woman. It was bizarre enough that she had dated a vampire. How many other secrets lay buried in her past?

"Let's just say your mother had some very good friends in some very high places." The man, probably centuries older than Bo, stated.

Bo folded his body, hands coming to his face. Frustration and confusion gnawed at him. "Why is it everyone seems to have answers but no one wants to tell me? What is there to hide?" He threw his hands up in the air. "Why am I being kept out of the loop, dammit!"

"We just want you to be safe." Mr. Compton calmly replied. "Your mother was a very special woman. Sookie didn't just work as a barmaid."

"Then what was she?" Bo kept his eyes steady. He was still unsure of the older man before him. How much of what he was saying was the truth?

"A telepath."

Bo raised his eyebrows. He'd heard a lot of shit in his life. He was a New Yorker. But this caught him off guard. "Please, a mind reader? That's ridiculous. Are you kidding me?"

Mr. Compton didn't bat an eye. "Did she ever know what you were going to do or say, even before you did it?"

Bo looked at him incredulously. "Isn't that just women's intuition?"

"In a world of vampires and other supernatural creatures, is it really that impossible?"

Mr. Compton set the photo in his hands back down on the table, almost regretfully. A younger version of his mom stared back up at Bo. Bo felt the urge to pick it up himself but decided against it. He didn't want to get any closer to the mysterious man than he already was. It was uncomfortable enough just having him in his living room.

"I thought those were just diseases. What's telepathy got to do with it?"

They had gone over vampires and the were-people in American History and Social Studies back in high school. There were still some countries that persecuted one or the other, but the majority of the Western world and half of Asia had already passed laws to protect them. They studied some of the symptoms of the two diseases in class, but other than a few vague descriptions the information was lacking at best. The Great Revelation was over. Who cared?

Mr. Compton sighed, an action that seemed almost human to Bo. "They really do fill your minds with garbage in school these days. If becoming a vampire or a wolf by moonlight were because of a virus, it would be a very impractical one."

Bo groaned. "You're not making any sense. Why are you even here? So my mom is a telepath." He emphasized the last word with skepticism. "So what? Throw me a bone here, man."

Sitting back, Mr. Compton appeared starker than when they were out on the porch. "I don't have all the information. What I have collected from my associates, however, was that your mother had been doing jobs on the side. Using her telepathy was a part of it. We only talked a few times a year. I offered to send her funds, but she declined. She is—was a stubborn woman. She called me at the beginning of summer to ask me to protect you. Sookie believed she was getting into something dangerous, but she wouldn't tell me what. She made me promise to help you until you could survive on your own."

Bo rolled his eyes. "I don't need anybody's help. I've survived just fine."

"You have no money, no future plans, unpaid bills, and a house in need of major repairs." Mr. Compton stated. That was true, as much as Bo hated to admit it. "And have you even bought any True Blood yet?"

Bo spluttered, "I... I just haven't had enough time, okay? So things are starting off badly. I can work two jobs. I barely sleep at night anyway."

"That's not the point. Whether you like it or not you are only 17 years old."

"I'll be 18 in September." The younger man countered halfheartedly.

Mr. Compton continued without missing a beat. "If you do not feed properly your body is going to break down. When was the last time you drank?"

"Um... a month ago, I think." Bo admitted. His throat had been a little parched this week, but not enough for him to resort to blood just yet.

"And the thirst?"

Bo started to stumble over his words. "I... I can control it. It's not like I'm—"

"A vampire? No, not fully."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Bo said, "Not fully? Does that mean... Am I not human?"

Bo's heartbeat quickened. Shock coursed through his system. Sure, he'd had his abnormalities. But he was human. He had a beating heart.

"... We will discuss this more at a later time. I can not stay any longer without endangering you. There will be a crate of True Blood on the porch before the night is over. I expect you to have at least one bottle before I see you tomorrow." Mr. Compton stood up. He headed for the door.

"You're coming over again?" Bo said, eyes widening. How many times would he be seeing this guy?

"It is my duty to protect you after all." He displayed no change in emotion, which irked Bo. The man was incredibly difficult to read.

"Okay. On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being where all hell could break loose at any moment, how much danger am I in exactly?" Bo rose from his spot, shoulders squared.

Mr. Compton paused. "At least a 7. Maybe more."

"Great."

The pizza was fifteen minutes late.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris**

Thank you for all the comments! I have had a lot of help with revising and editing from Wandersfar and I deeply appreciate it! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

><p>Chapter 6<p>

A box of True Blood sat on the second step of the porch when Bo rose the next morning. He moved it into the kitchen in irritation, rubbing at his eyes lethargically. It was amazing he slept at all. Since his arrival, his mind had been overflowing with questions. After Mr. Compton's visit, it had only gotten worse. Everything felt so surreal. His mom was a _telepath_? And he was a vamp? Well, part-vamp. He could almost believe the former, but the latter was too unfathomable. He was a living, breathing daywalker. He ate toaster strudel. What kind of vampire eats toaster strudel?

Sure, there were some similarities. You would have to be an idiot not to notice them. The extra teeth and thirst were obvious indicators. He had always been stronger than most, too, but he chalked that up to simply being physically fit. His mom never did allow him to play to his full potential in sports, or to run home from school. These were the petty things they argued about when she was still alive. Bo missed their arguments. Everything these days reminded him of his mom. Moving into her old home hadn't helped. Bo sincerely hoped he wasn't one of the undead. The very idea sent shivers down his spine.

The undead were a subject Bo had only come across at school or in hushed conversations in restaurants. He hadn't met any of them before Bill. Bo spent most of his weeknights at his mom's joint, an establishment that was too small to bring in anything other than regulars and the occasional tourist. He had scant contact with the supernatural world while his mom was alive.

But Bo's life wasn't in New York anymore. Bon Temps had taken its place. Gone were the towering buildings, the concrete landscapes, the smell of grease and oil. The fresh forests of the bayou were his home now. It was bizarre. But he didn't miss the traffic noise, the constant cacophony of the city. He liked the peace and quiet of his mother's childhood home. It had been a long time since he slept so comfortably. Sure, it was lonelier than before, but he wanted this. Needed this.

Opening the windows, he let in the fresh morning air. Bo needed to do more cleaning. The reception for the funeral would be held at Uncle Jason's, but he still wanted his mother's home to look as nice as possible. He spent part of the early morning dusting and polishing objects in the living room and kitchen. As it got warmer he pulled out a battery-operated fan from one of the moving boxes. He had unloaded half of them, but the rest contained his mother's belongings, which he was not yet ready to touch. His uncle had graciously packed them for him, so he wasn't sure what lay inside.

After an hour of his stomach protesting for food he finally relented. He had stuffed the toaster strudel inside the ice box his uncle gave him. It was solar powered, like a lot of things were these days. Technology hadn't resulted in flying cars yet, but there were definitely improvements in efficiency from the time his mom was his age.

He stuffed two pastries into a toaster he found in one of the cabinets. The light bulbs and wiring inside the house would definitely need replacing. The only rooms with working electricity were the master bedroom and the kitchen, but he used power sparingly. Bo would need to call the electrician that day to set up a time to come over. He could almost feel his pockets emptying themselves.

Bo swallowed instinctively. His throat was as dry as sandpaper. The thirst was worse today. Reluctantly, he got out a bottle from the crate. It was already warm, so he didn't bother microwaving it. Fake blood tasted bad either way. The toaster dinged. Bo took out a plate and put the toaster strudel on it. Sitting in a shaded area of the room, he poured the True Blood onto the strudel. Breakfast was served.

Yuck. B Positive. He was more of an O fan. The strudel drove away most of the awful taste. Bo downed what was left of the bottle, grimacing. His additional teeth pierced past his gums. He cursed. This was going to take some getting used to. Until he could find a dentist Bo was going to be stuck with them.

Cars were making their way down the road. Panicking, he finished his meal and rushed to the door. Bo retracted his so-called fangs along the way. Wouldn't be good form to scare his visitors. Stepping out onto the grass, he spotted two trucks and a van. What really caught his eyes were the words on the sides of their automobiles. "Don's Roofing and Tiling" and "Electric-man" pulled into the driveway first while "Beaumont Air Conditioning" was still down the road by a mile. To say Bo was confused would be an understatement.

Two men got out from each car. They were all Caucasian males, ranging in size from pot-bellied to hairy beast. They were all darker than he, but most people were. The one who reached him first was a short but sturdy man, with graying hair and a large nose. A small name tag identified him as Richard. Before Bo knew it he was signing papers.

"What do you mean it's all paid for?" Bo could hardly believe it. He had little to his name. Who could pay for all this?

"I mean what I said." The man, Richard, told him. "Your guardian paid upfront a week ago. Didn't anybody tell you?"

"I just got here a week ago. Who the hell ordered all this?"

It couldn't have been Jason. While his uncle was technically his parental guardian, he agreed to let Bo act on his own. Living alone in the old house had simply been a fluke, seeing as how Uncle Jason's household was too full for him to live in. His three cousins and aunt were nice, but he knew they were strapped for cash as much as he was.

"A guy named Bill Compton. You know him?" Richard said.

"Unfortunately." He grumbled. "Geez. Sneaky bastard."

"Can we get started? We're on a tight schedule." Richard said with impatience, probably not expecting a teen to be the partial owner of the house.

Bo mulled it over. He could tell them to leave, but then he'd have to pay for the work himself later on down the road. Decent jobs for high school dropouts weren't easy to come by, and in the meantime, he doubted the job Mr. Merlotte offered him as busboy would pay enough to cover the repairs anytime soon. Finally, after much deliberation, he relented. "Yeah, alright. Go ahead. I'll lead you inside." He sighed.

Bo was going to kick Bill Compton's ass back into the grave he crawled out of. He was a full grown (well, nearly) man. As nice as the gift was, his pride was on the line. Bo spent the rest of the day trying not to get in the way of the men. He worked on cleaning the rest of the master bathroom and putting away empty boxes in the attic.

There was an empty bed in the attic along with family knickknacks Bo would probably go through another day. The air was too stifling and stagnant to stay up there for long. He discovered a few photos of his great-grandparents but was unsure of where to place them. Most of the things he'd found Bo had let be. He put the majority of his mother's boxes up there as well. Some, like jewelry and photo albums, were stuffed into the guest bedroom for the time being.

The workers left around a quarter to five, promising to return over the next few days to finish up. Bo called Uncle Jason and told him about the men who came over. He left out what happened the night before. His uncle was as bewildered as he was. Jason didn't make much of a fuss about it though. Something about not looking a gift horse in the mouth. They talked about the funeral preparations for a while longer until Bo went back to his battle against dust bunnies. The house was full of those little buggers.

It was wonderful to finally get air conditioning and a functioning refrigerator again. He sat in front of the vent for a twenty minute break. It felt wonderful. Louisianan weather was nothing like the northeast. The lack of ventilation earlier had made it worse. Bo walked into the kitchen and placed some fruits and a few bottles of True Blood inside the refrigerator.

Exhaustion caught up with him by dinnertime. The sun was still on the horizon when he dozed off on the couch. Life was slower in Bon Temps. New York City was always bustling, a nonstop flurry of people and noises. Bon Temps followed a lazier beat, as if life itself couldn't wake it from its idleness.

It was dark when he awoke. Half-asleep, he stumbled into the master bathroom and washed his face. His hair was a mess. The smell of sweat and cleaning products clung to his skin. He was about to peel off his shirt to take a shower when he heard a knock at the door. Groaning, he dragged himself to the front door. He glanced through the peephole. It was a vampire.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Bill. The guy appeared to have died sometime in his late teens to early twenties. His style was goth, with fishnet sleeves and a torn black and green shirt covering them. His hair was gelled into a dark mohawk. Bo supposed the vampire's features could be considered decent, but the smeared makeup sort of ruined the picture. The stranger was not a happy camper.

"Open up." It was an order. He had an Australian accent.

"Why should I? Who the hell are you?" Bo demanded.

"Bill sent me."

"Well then, you can go back to Mr. Compton and tell him to fuck off." Bo paused. "Sorry, that was rude of me. Tell him to fuck off, please." Bo was taught manners.

"It's urgent. You're in danger. I have a message. I need you to invite me in." The vampire said, as if it were humiliating enough to have to knock on a human's front door.

Bo opened the door a bit. "What kind of danger?"

"What kind of-hey kid, you want your arse saved or what?" His mouth was drawn into a scowl.

"Fine, you can come in." Bo huffed. "Now, what was it you wanted-"

Bo didn't even get to finish his sentence. He was flung into the front yard, hitting a nearby tree. It broke in half. The force of the impact knocked the air out of his lungs. Bo's vision swam before him. The vampire was on him in an instant, his hand on his throat. Bo nearly screamed. Shock and pain rocked Bo to his core. His back stung. His side throbbed. One of his ribs was broken. This was not going to end well.

"I take it you are the danger?" Bo coughed.

The vampire's fangs came out. "Sorry mate. Orders are orders."

Bo didn't know whether he was more pissed off or scared. Bo's teeth lengthened. The other male's eyes widened. "You picked the wrong guy to mess with bloodsucker."

His fist met the vampire's jaw quite nicely. The Australian punched him in the stomach. Thankfully he dodged most of the blow. It still stung, but not as much as when Bo head-butted his attacker. His eyesight flashed multiple colors. Both moaned in pain.

"Holy shit, that hurt!" The undead visitor cried.

"You're telling me." Bo groaned, staggering back up. Movies did _not_ make good fighting reference material.

Bo dropkicked the Aussie square in the abdomen. He went flying into the woods. Bo half-ran, half-limped around the house, into the backyard. His sides were on fire. He struggled to breathe. This was not how Bo wanted to spend his Thursday night. Bo heard movement not too far from his spot. He hurried.

Weeds and overgrown grass littered the area. A shed lay damaged beyond repair. Wildflowers and stickers grew alongside the house. A rusted shovel lay among them, leaning against the wall. Bo picked it up. It would do for now. He rested against a thin oak with straggly branches. Anticipation and dread washed over him. Was this how he was going to die? In the backwoods of Louisiana?

Bo tried to relax his shoulders. Being tense was not going to help. His hands were buzzing like crazy though. Bo licked his fangs absentmindedly. He really didn't want to get killed tonight. He was only 17 years old. He'd never even kissed a girl. He did a cross sign across his chest like he'd seen Catholics do on TV. Better safe than sorry. Bo was a Christmas-Easter sort of Christian. He wasn't as devout as his mother would have liked.

A blur rushed from the woods. As quick as he could Bo smashed the back of the shovel into the dead guy's face. The action threw Bo back a few feet. A sickening crunch met his ears. The Australian vampire fell back, unconscious. His nose was bleeding profusely and his forehead was split open. Bo watched as the vampire's eyes rolled back into his head. Relief spread through him.

Bo felt guilty for hurting someone, but in the case of self-defense it was his only option. He dragged the vampire back towards the house, using the shovel as a crutch. Bo's ribs and back would be partially mended in a couple hours. The bruises could take a day to disappear, Bo estimated. He didn't know how fast vampires healed. Hopefully his attacker would be down long enough for him to set up a plan of action. One thing was for certain in Bo's mind.

He wanted answers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Thank you greatly for the reviews! A huge thank you to Wandersfar for helping me revise not only this chapter but previous ones! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 7<p>

Oh god, oh god, oh god. What had he done? Bo paced back and forth in the kitchen. His ribs were mending far too slowly for his liking and his back was killing him. Bo would have interrogated the vampire outside, but he was afraid that the bloodsucker might have brought friends. He was stupid to believe him from the start. Bo was too trusting for his own good. His mom used to drill into him the importance of being cautious. Now Bo had a killer vampire in his kitchen. He was such an idiot. Bo plunked into a chair.

Did Mr. Compton really want to kill him? Even after he promised to protect Bo? Not that he needed protection, Bo thought hastily. But things weren't adding up. His nerves were on fire. He accidentally dirtied the kitchen floor when he came in. The vampire he dragged in had accumulated soil and leaves from the backyard. It was not a pretty sight.

Movement. The undead villain was coming around, his broken nose and bruises healing quickly. It reminded Bo of himself, which scared him. Bo still refused to believe Mr. Compton was right. There had to be another explanation. He swallowed the anxiety in his stomach.

Metal bat by his side, Bo stiffened as the vampire tried to stretch. He hissed dramatically and glared at Bo, who just rolled his eyes. In the kitchen light, his assailant wasn't nearly as scary as he had seemed in the dark. From the way he rocked back and forth in the chair, Bo could almost think of him as human. This vampire was nothing like Mr. Compton.

Earlier Bo had wrapped a dozen silver necklaces around the bloodsucker's wrists and ankles. A rash was starting to develop on Bo's hands, but he paid little attention to it. Three hours had passed before the vampire stirred. Bo's ribs were still sore, but other than the bruising on his neck and upper torso, he was fine. Hopefully everything would be healed by morning.

Bo scooted his chair closer to the other male. He tightened his grip on the bat. "Who are you?"

"Jesus-fucking-Christ! What did you hit me with?" The vampire moaned. He looked him over. "What the heck are you?"

Bo brushed back his bangs, frustrated. "Answer the question, asshole."

"Ow, damn. It's Tim. Tim Mallery."

"Tim? Tim the vampire?" Bo asked incredulously. His supposed hit man was a vampire named Tim. Bo could no longer keep up a serious facade. "I thought it would be something more vampiric. Like Dracula."

"Fuck you. My mum gave me that name." Bo's mother would have washed the dirty language right out of Tim. Not that Bo was in any position to criticize.

"Let's move on." Bo said. "Who sent you?"

"Like I'm telling a human." Tim twisted his body away from him.

Bo stood. He lifted the softball bat up to the vampire's line of vision. "I really don't like hurting people unless I absolutely have to. But I can. Unless you want a second concussion, I suggest you talk."

The vampire looked scared for a second. Tim hesitated, and then replied. "Will you let me go, if I tell you?"

Bo positioned himself away from the vampire. He wasn't about to risk getting hit by another surprise attack. "That depends on what you have to say."

"Okay, okay." Tim relented. "It wasn't Bill. It was the Sheriff of Area Five."

"Sheriff? Area Five?" What was this? A Western?

"Long story." Tim said.

"Does he have a name?"

"Eric Northman. Big Viking guy. Can't miss him." An image of an ugly bearded brute with a cowboy hat and spurs came to Bo's mind. He swiftly banished the image.

"What's he got against me?" Bo asked.

"From what I scrounged up from his messenger and the others, I think it's because he liked your mom. The thought of another guy getting some T and A with her probably damaged his ego."

"So he's taking it out on me?" Bo asked. "How many vampire boyfriends did Mom have?"

"I only know of two." Tim the vampire winced. A sliver of smoke rose from his wrists. "Can you let me go now? My arse is going to be fried for not killing you. My maker's already fed up with me."

"I'm not surprised." Bo commented dryly.

His adrenaline rush had tempered over the course of the conversation. A pure blanket of anxiety took its place. Now not only did he have to worry about his mom's killers, but a big crazy asshole vamp, too? Maybe he shouldn't have come to Bon Temps.

If he had stayed in New York, things probably would have been different. He could have worked at his mother's old bar, perhaps done construction on the weekends. He might have even dated that one cute girl from math class, the one with the red hair and nice legs. Life would have been simpler.

Or not. Bo would have never known about his mother's killers or their desire to do him in as well. He remembered when he found her. The body had been burned beyond recognition. Only the necklace she always wore survived, untouched by the flames. She was cremated and lying in the funeral home for now. He could have ended up that way as well if he didn't leave when he did. Bo shook off the dark memory.

"Where can I find this Northman guy?" Bo finally said.

"You're not actually thinking of going after him are you?" Tim's mouth turned downward. He looked at Bo like he'd suddenly grown another head. "No offense, but even if you are—whatever the hell you are—you'd be crazy to go after a head honcho like that."

"Got any better ideas?" Bo stated.

"Playing dead?"

"Cute. Real cute." Bo sighed. He was starting to regret inviting Mr. Compton in. Somehow, he felt he was going to be facing the undead a lot more than he'd like to. He hoped most weren't like Tim. One cheeky vampire was enough for the world. "Just give me a location."

"Fangtasia. Shreveport." Bo's eyebrows could not go any higher.

"_Fangtasia_? Fang-Tasia? I got attacked by a vampire named Tim who works at Fangtasia?" Bo said in near disbelief. He couldn't decided which was more pathetic, the vampire's name or the ridiculously cheesy title for a bar.

"You guys are just natural-born comedians aren't you?" Bo commented.

"My shows are Tuesdays and Thursdays at 8 O'clock. Call in advance if you'd like a ticket." Tim retorted. Bo understood why his maker couldn't stand him. Tim was a suicidal vampire.

"Sorry. Third-rate stand-up just doesn't appeal to me."

Maybe in another universe they could have been friends, Bo thought to himself. As it was, Tim had given him enough information to go on for the moment. He set the bat on the kitchen counter. Honestly, Bo didn't know what to do. He never believed in his wildest dreams he would be able to fight off a vampire, and here he had one tied up in his kitchen.

But Bo couldn't just ignore the Viking. The guy had a grudge against him. He wouldn't stop until Bo was six feet under. He didn't see that he had many options. Attacking the vampire head on was suicide. Anyone could see that. Bo wasn't the sort of guy to kill someone, either. He had morals.

"Do they know what I look like?" Bo inquired.

"Nah. I was only given your address." Tim was eyeing the box of toaster strudel by the microwave. "I miss food."

"You're not very good at your job, are you?" Bo said.

"I was turned a year ago." The vampire admitted.

"That explains it. You spilled the beans pretty quickly."

"What can I say? I value my living death."

Bo arrived at an idea. A crazy idea. He pulled out his cellphone. Typing in the information, he came across a location. Good. Bo grasped the slugger again. He disappeared into the hall. Bo packed his gray backpack with the softball bat and some silver jewelry, just in case. Swiftly, he threw on a black shirt. The color was faded, but it would help him blend in, probably. He laced up his tennis shoes and pocketed the phone.

Entering back into the kitchen, he placed a bottle of blood into Tim's hands. The vampire gawked at him, perplexed.

"You…you are the nicest captor I've ever met. I'm almost sorry I was ordered to kill you." Tim said.

Bo was still angry at the bloodsucker. He wouldn't forgive the older teen for trying to murder him anytime soon. But he was his mother's child. Even if Tim was his would-be killer, no matter how bad he was at it, he couldn't very well leave him without something to drink. That would make him a bad host. Bo blocked out the fact his mom probably wouldn't have even invited the vampire inside in the first place. She would've known better.

"Gee, thanks." Bo responded with zero enjoyment. "I'm going out for a bit. I'm turning you over to Mr. Compton when I get back. Then I want both of you out of my life, for good."

Bo exited out the backdoor. He wanted to be as careful as possible. This was a surveillance mission, to see what he was up against. And maybe offer up a truce. He examined the map on his phone for a good number of minutes.

Then he vanished into the darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: ****I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris. **

Thank you for all the reviews! It has been really fun to read what everyone thinks of the story. A huge thank you to my beta Wandersfar as well. Hope you enjoy. Critiques are always welcome.

* * *

><p>Chapter 8<p>

Bo arrived at the bar a while later. The soles of his shoes were covered in dirt. He had gotten lost four times on the way over. It wasn't the first time Bo had trouble finding a place. He didn't like maps. He also refused to ask for directions. Bo could find places sooner or later, though the majority of the time, it tended to be later. Much later. Bo wiped a thin coat of sweat off his brow.

He checked the clock on his phone. It was near midnight. Bo should be asleep. Instead, he was going to a vampire nightclub to spy and/or get this whole head on a platter thing fixed. What was the deal with what Tim said anyway? Area Five? What was that? And why was the Viking called a Sheriff? Nothing made sense anymore. Maybe it was just a Louisiana thing.

The running was exhilarating. He hadn't gone that fast in years. His mother said it was dangerous. She was right, of course. Most teens couldn't out dash Lamborghinis on freeways. It felt wonderful though. It was one of the few times he could forget about everything in the world. The pounding of his feet against the asphalt was almost rhythmic. He twisted through a busy intersection, jumped a corner and turned right.

As he got closer, the uncertainty in his chest grew. He was not as daring as he would have liked to be. Twice, he stopped on the road to turn back. Only pride and fear for his life made him go forward. He couldn't very well leave things be. He could negotiate, or at least spy on the place. They didn't know what he looked like. Only his address and name were known. Bo could use this to his advantage.

The bar was along a strip mall. The architecture was unoriginal at best, the only thing catching his eye being the neon sign. It was discreet enough to find if you were searching for it, but out of sight if you were a passerby. A smart move. A long line of people stood outside, all dressed in varying shades of black. Some, which he guessed were the fangbangers, wore tacky outfits channeling Dracula himself. Fake fangs and black capes were in season for these folks, even on a balmy August night. A good portion of them were already sweating, one girl's excess makeup giving her a sad clown appearance. Bo could almost smell the desperation.

Others, tourists he guessed, were closer to his genre. Like him, they were dressed in black shirts and regular pants, the only thing setting them apart being the cameras on their necks. Most were in their thirties and forties. Only a girl with short dark hair was in his age group. If Bo had time, he might have talked to her. Or simply admired her. He was rather terrible in the conversation department.

Bo wondered why people were attracted to such things. It had been more than two decades since the Great Revelation, yet America's fascination with the undead was still ongoing. There were more vampire sitcoms and talk shows than Bo cared to count. The emergence of the Were-people only strengthened the public's interest in everything otherworldly. It wasn't as if Bo was turned off to these sorts of things though. He did occasionally watch a random vampire comedy or shifter boxing match. Perhaps he was just a hypocrite.

At the front of the line were two bouncers. They were dressed like Tim, only with more style. They too were undead. Pale faced and stoic, the vampires were likely hundreds of years old. He was about to round the corner, hoping to find a back entrance. Too late. Bo accidently caught the attention of the male one. They locked eyes. His heart stopped.

A nod. Hesitantly, Bo copied the movement. They lost eye contact a second later. Bo had no clue what had just transpired. His blood started pumping again. The backdoor was far less impressive than the front. There were also far more expensive cars parked here as well. Bo spotted at least five sports cars and two or three hybrids with an abundance of add-ons. Vampires loved nice rides apparently. Bo didn't blame them. He could go for a nice Jaguar as well. He slinked over to the door. He tried to turn the knob. It was locked. He tried again.

Bo gave up after the fifth time. He couldn't break it, as much as he wanted to. He'd seen enough crime shows to know breaking doors left evidence. A lot of evidence. Bo was getting antsy. He racked his head for a plan of action. He would have to wait until someone decided to leave. Bo dug his foot into the ground, frustration gripping him. What was he going to do now?

Someone touched his shoulder. He had been too busy with the doorknob to notice their approach. Bo jumped. The stranger did too. Without meaning to, Bo extended his fangs. He bit his lip and cussed loudly. Not cool.

It was the girl from the line. She held her hands up as if to defend herself. Her expression was a mixture of fear and excitement. A large, outdated Canon hung from her neck. She was dressed plainer than most girls, in a pair of jean shorts that came down to her knees and a midnight blue camisole that fit her comfortably. In the poorly lit parking area, her eyes were as black as coal.

"Bernard Stackhouse?" He paled. She opened the lens of her camera. "Holy cheese! You're a vampire! Oh man, wait, can you smile for me? I want to take a "

"What are you doing?" He swiped the camera away. His extra incisors immediately returned to their hiding places in his gums.

"Taking a picture for the school newspaper." She stated. "Sure, it's a bit early to start a story, but this could be the biggest scoop of the year! Can I use you for my vampire expose?"

"No. Wait, who are you? How do you know me? Did the Viking guy send you?" Bo's voice was two octaves higher than normal. Had his plans been ripped to shreds before they'd even begun?

"Viking guy? No, I'm doing this on my own. And my name's Rose. Rose Bellefleur." She attempted to recover her camera from his grip. "My dad's the head sheriff of Bon Temps. Everyone in Bon Temps knows about you. You're practically a celebrity. I was going to interview you later, but it looks like you've moved up to my number one article. Can I get a statement?"

"Again, no." She was a chatterbox, that girl. Bo moved the camera away from her reach. "I have to get inside. I need to talk to someone."

"Through the back?" Rose gestured with surprise.

"Yes." Bo replied.

"But it's locked."

Bo sighed. "Well, it's my only option."

"Can't you just go through the front?" Rose said, her lips taunting him.

He threw up his hands in frustration. "You can't simply walk into a bar infested with bloodthirsty vampires! That's insane! I'd be killed!"

She pointed at him. "But aren't you one of them?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Bo said in indignation. "I am human. _Hu-man_."

Rose didn't appear to agree with his statement. "_Sure_. Well, why don't you take me along then? My article can't write itself."

Bo couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And why would I take you? I don't even know you."

"Listen. Both of us want to get inside. I know how to do it. You could follow my plan, which is near foolproof, or wait like a sick little puppy all night for someone to come out for a smoke. Your choice." Rose explained in a matter-of-fact manner.

"This isn't going to be legal is it?" Bo said.

"Like sneaking in through the back doesn't warrant an arrest?" Rose crossed her arms.

Bo tried to find a way out. "Aren't you a little young to be going to a vampire bar?"

"Aren't you as well?"

Bo glared at her. He racked his head to come up with an answer. He had nothing. She was right. His plans were in tatters. It wasn't even much of a plan to begin with. Begrudgingly, he put the camera back in her hands. She smiled, a crooked grin which somehow made him even more nervous.

"What do you have in mind?" Bo asked.

"Bite me."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Thank you for so many reviews! It is crazy! Thank you to Wandersfar who has helped me with corrections and tips on writing! I hope you like this chapter!

* * *

><p>Chapter 9<p>

"No way. Nuh-uh. Not happening." The partially undead teen's glower increased.

"It's the only way to make it look believable!" Rose explained. She placed her hands on her hips.

"By biting you?" Bo said. "I barely even know you. And I am not a vampire."

"But you look like one." Rose pointed out. "Fangs. Pale skin. The constipated look on your face. It's perfect."

Bo glanced over himself, offended. Did he really look like one of the undead? Sure, he was a little on the pasty side of the spectrum, but pale-skinned and dead were two different things. His temperature was lower than the average person's as well. It didn't make him one of the creatures of the night, though. Subconsciously, Bo rubbed his lower face. Was he really that constipated looking?

"What about my heart then? I don't think vampires would believe I'm one of them if blood is still pumping through my arteries. They have good hearing." Bo said, pointing at the backdoor of Fangtasia.

Rose brushed him off. "Oh please, that's not an issue at all. Did you see the crowd? There are nearly a hundred humans outside and probably a lot more in the building. You'll be completely covered."

"This is ridiculous. Do you know how much trouble we'll get in if someone finds out?" Bo lamented.

"No one is going to find out. We may not know each other real well, but I promise you, if we follow my plan exactly, both of us will benefit." Rose reminded Bo of the Aussie. Did all the people in Louisiana have a death wish? Bo wasn't any better though, considering he was going along with it.

"But you're underage. If I drink from you, I could get in trouble with the cops." The older teen reminded her.

The younger teen bristled, then countered, "You're underage yourself."

"Yeah, but if we get caught, I'm the one who's going to jail, not you." Bo backtracked. "On that note, we aren't even 21! We'll be booted out before we even set foot in the club."

"My god. You are worse than my older sister. Stop making excuses." Rose retorted. "Why do you even care? You're a...well, _you're_ a shoe-in._ You_ can pass for one of them. As for me, I'm fake ID all the way."

Rose yanked a card from her purse. She held it up for her skeptical companion. Bo threw her a sour look. "Candy Foxx? Who did you get this from? A stripper?" Bo commented dryly.

Rose stuffed the item back into her purse. "You. Are. Impossible."

"I still think this is a bad idea." Bo grumbled.

"Then go home. Why do you even want to go inside?"

"I'm sort of... spying on someone."

"Oh? Who?" Rose's interest was piqued.

"Uh..." The "spy" blanked on the man's name. "Big Viking vampire guy. Just forget I said anything. It doesn't concern you."

"You're pretty horrible at spying then. You couldn't even get inside without someone's help."

Bo changed the subject. "Shut up. I suppose you'll be my fangbanger then?"

The brunette frowned. "Never in a million years. I'm your girlfriend. There is no way I am going to pretend to be one of those kinky lowlifes."

Bo rubbed his temples. He was getting a headache and the sun wasn't even up. "Fine. Whatever. We should get started. Someone might come out soon."

They moved into a shaded area. Crouching down by the bushes, they awkwardly positioned themselves. Rose craned her neck next to his face, her hand on his chest. This was the closest he had ever gotten to a female besides his mom. Bo's nose accidently bumped into her hair. He caught a scent of her shampoo. Rosewood and peppermint. Bo nearly inhaled it. An underlying odor of her own sweat and essence only enhanced the experience. She smelled wonderful. Bo's fingers curled into fists. His fangs came out all on their own.

Bo had only tasted human blood a handful of times. His mom made sure of that. Usually his diet consisted of True Blood or Life Flow. There were accidents, especially during his formative years, but otherwise Bo had lived a relatively normal childhood. It wasn't until the middle school incident that he began to struggle with control. Synthetic blood only soothed his nutritional needs, not the thirst. Even now his throat felt scratchy.

He put his right hand on her shoulder. Her skin was lightly tanned, freckles dotting her shoulders and arms. He pushed back a stray lock of her hair. Rose was trembling. She had on a brave face, but her eyes said something different. She was scared. Straightaway Bo tried to comfort her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Bo said slowly. Artlessly, he patted her on the back as casually as one would a dog. Bo had no skills with the opposite sex.

"I know. It's just... I've never been bitten before, okay? What if I turn into a vampire? Oh god, my mother is so going to ground me if I come home undead!" Rose blabbered on.

"I don't think it works that way."

Rose gulped. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Her face suddenly lit up in fascination. "Hey Bernard. Your heart... it's beating."

"Didn't I tell you I was human?" Well, almost. If what Mr. Compton said was true, Bo was sort of half and half. Like a Black and Tan. "And it's Bo."

"Wicked. You're more interesting than I thought Ber-Bo. I can't wait to interview you." Her expression became slightly more trusting, less stressed than moments earlier.

"Joy." Bo replied with little enthusiasm.

Bo used his left hand to steady himself. His right stroked Rose's hair, the motion calming her. He leaned forward. His lips revealed the things he'd hidden most of his life. How did Bo even come to this point? How was it even possibly he had these... things. Mr. Compton said he wasn't mostly vampire, but was he actually telling the truth? Was Bo bitten by a vampire at birth? Or was it something even more unimaginable? He ran a tongue over his elongated friends, their sharpness all too familiar and yet foreign at the same time.

What if he fed for too long? Bo wasn't sure how actual vampires did it. Television shows sort of glamorized the event. He knew that was false. His first real time had been much bloodier. Would this end up the same way? Bo struggled to keep a straight face. Trepidation ate at him. He was in a parking lot of a vampire bar about to bite into a girl's neck, and he wasn't even a vampire. At least, Bo didn't think he was. Mr. Compton was probably wrong. Bo gulped. What if he killed her? No. Bo was in control. He could do this. Possibly. Honestly, Bo was on edge. So much could go wrong if he didn't do it correctly.

"Close your eyes," Bo said softly. If there had been any uncertainty in his voice Rose didn't react to it. Rose did, reluctantly. "Hey Bo?"

"A little busy right now." Talking with fangs was difficult. Almost like wearing sharp braces.

"Sorry. You're going to be working at Merlotte's tomorrow evening, right?"

"Yeah. I'm the new busboy," Bo responded coolly.

"Oh, that's cool. Um..." Rose chewed on her lower lip. "I go there with my friends a lot. Maybe I'll see you there? If we get out alive that is."

Bo shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

He put his mouth on the spot between her neck and shoulder. His tongue touched the freckled skin instantaneously. Rose shivered, but said nothing. The warmth of her body radiated into him. He'd never been this intimate with someone so willing. There was that one time in middle school, but Bo didn't count that. He closed that memory off for good. The moonlight drifted over them. His heartbeat quickened. Bo concentrated hard on how he would do it. The pulse of her blood soothed his nerves. Finally, he sunk into her.

A prick. It lasted only a second. He pushed off of her not a second later. The taste was there nevertheless. Bo licked his lips by accident. Life changed. Bo's pupils dilated. His perception became clearer. Everything was a hundred times more vibrant than before. He could see each individual strand of hair on her neck. The sounds of the crowd on the other side of the building were crisp and defined. Her taste was delicious as well. Like hot alcohol. Compared to True Blood or any other synthetic blood brand, the real stuff was like a three course meal with dessert. And the smells, oh the smells. The rich metallic odor of-

Rose was shaking him. He shifted back into reality. A deep, sinking regret gripped his heart. Bo had nearly done it again. Losing control was his greatest fear and here he had almost blown it. She was O negative to boot. He tried to spit out the taste, but it clung to his mouth.

"You feeling alright?" O negative girl said, concerned.

Bo struggled for control. He took five deep breaths. "Yeah. Let's get going. We don't have all night."

The boy brushed the dirt off his knees, getting up easily. Any soreness in his sides and back was long gone; in its place, Bo felt a rush of energy. It was like he'd just had three expressos. Around him, the world was completely different. Everything was much slower. Or maybe Bo was faster, he wasn't sure. But it felt good.

Really good.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Thank you for all the wonderful comments! I hope everyone will enjoy this chapter. A big thank you to my Beta Wandersfar as well! (revised some mistakes. Darn you Microsoft...)

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><p>Chapter 10<p>

Confident was not a word Bo would use to describe himself. He held a reputation for awkwardness at parties, his friends were few in number, and in high school he was less than popular with the ladies. The mostly human teen wasn't unattractive or unfriendly by any means; he just kept to himself a lot. Sookie Stackhouse guarded him from a lot of things in life, something Bo had at times taken for granted. Coming to the vampire nightclub was one of the bravest and quite possibly craziest actions he ever made. It conveyed extreme stupidity on his part, but he did it.

Now, with a taste of Rose s blood, a lack of confidence was the least of his concerns. He wondered if this was what being high felt like, this sense of invincibility he was experiencing. Bo strode with assurance into the bar. He copied the nod from earlier and reused it on the bouncers at the door. Rose did all of the talking. They walked close together, but kept their hands apart.

The holes on her neck were enough of a disguise. When one of the bouncers tried to card her, he intervened. The bouncer tried to speak up, but Bo's glare kept him off of her. The teen smirked. This was kind of cool. Rose squeezed in, shoulder to shoulder with Bo. He could feel the heat off her skin; it radiated against his own cooler temperature. Bo almost went for her neck again, however his conscience held him back. Inwardly, he regretted taking even a single drop from her. Bill's words echoed through his mind. Was he really one of them, at least, in some way or form? The idea clouded his thoughts as they entered into the main hall.

Black and burgundy were the principal colors of the place. Slick spandex and black leather were popular items to wear. Posters of vampire films or ones with famous undead actors were plastered everywhere there was room on the walls. Like Rose said, most of the bar was made up of the living. Fangbangers made up the majority, dancing to the beat of some metal band blaring off the sound system. Bo saw a few back in New York, but they were far more low-key than their garish Louisiana brethren. He could hear their hearts, pumping to the music. The dance floor was spacious and flooded with sexual tension, people grinding against each other like animals. A tall, black throne-like chair sat square in the middle of all the activity. It was vacant for the moment.

The dance club and bar were like a dark amusement park for adults. Bo scanned the area for a big scary Viking vampire. Most of the undead didn t fit the criteria. There were a few big vamps who could have easily squished Bo into a bloody mess, but none were Viking-like. The lounge was decorated with sleek furniture and low-light lamps, all made to look older than they probably were. Bo turned sharply to the right.

There was a gift shop near the entrance, manned by a vampire and a human employee. Like most of the club, they too were dressed in their Halloween finest. He saw coffee mugs, calendars, t-shirts, and other useless items in the collective fingers of the tourist types.

Like a billboard on an empty freeway, Bo's attention was drawn to a large 6 by 4 foot poster of a nearly naked blonde male on the wall behind the employees. Bo immediately deemed it tacky. The man's hair and skin were similar in coloring to Bo, but their builds were very different. Whereas Bo could be described as lanky and boyish, this guy was pure muscle and masculinity. He could show up in a dress and heels and still look masculine. Most women would probably find him insanely attractive. The man's arrogant smirk took away from the work as a whole, though. Bo thought that was a bit much.

"Earth to Bo. Houston, can you hear me?" His pretend girfriend said sarcastically.

"What?" He blinked twice. The effects of the blood were starting to wane. His vision became less brilliant. "Oh, sorry. I blanked. Were you saying something?"

"I said that this is where I will be leaving you. I m a reporter remember? Good luck with finding the big Viking guy."

"Yeah. Good luck." Bo replied absentmindedly.

Rose disappeared from his sight a moment later. He wondered if he should follow her to make sure she was safe, but decided against it. He barely knew the girl. She would be fine. And he had business to take care of.

The undead were few and far between at the bar. He picked up at least a dozen, maybe more. It was hard to tell. His senses were going crazy with the amount of people in the room. Eventually, he made his way to the bartender. He was rather plain for a vampire. Unlike the black bondage types he d seen at the door, his colors were more muted. He was middle-aged and balding, the sort of guy you would see at an office Christmas party for accountants. It was hard to believe he was one of the fanged.

Bo gathered his courage. "Um, excuse me, but can I please have a Coke— I mean, a bottle of O negative, please?"

The bartender arched an eyebrow. Bo silently cursed himself. He had messed up before he d even begun. The bartender was going to turn him in. He would never see the light of day again. He was so screw—

"Newbie, I take it? Where's your maker?" He popped off the top of a bottle and handed it to him.

The teen silently thanked whatever deity saved his ass. "He's... in the bathroom."

The bartender chuckled darkly. "Ah. Understandable then. When he comes out though, tell him it's best not to do that sort of stuff here. Even if the boss isn't around."

"The boss?" Bo questioned. The Viking Sheriff, he guessed. "Where is he then?"

"Mr. Northman is at the American Vampire League Conference. He left a few hours ago. Probably won't be back for awhile."

"Oh." Bo couldn't hide his disappointment. His plan to spy on the head vampire was a bust. He might get some other information, though. "So, he's not going to be back for Sookie Stackhouse's funeral?"

The vampire eyed him curiously. "What do you know about Sookie Stackhouse?"

"A little bird told me he was... in a relationship with her a long time ago." Bo nearly winced. Th context of that sentence felt nearly as bad as the image extracted from it. It felt weird to even speak about his mom having any sort of romantic relations. Bo didn't want to think about the sexual aspects of it. His mom was his mom. It was... Ew.

"You would be right. She was pretty famous in our community in the past. Did a lot of interesting things."

"Oh really?" Bo said, his interest evident.

"One of my colleagues was at Rhodes with her during The Summit. She helped save a lot of vampires when the building exploded."

"A building exploded?" Bo's jaw nearly hit the floor. "How did she survive?"

"That would be something you would have to ask Mr. Northman." The vampire's tone was approaching annoyance.

"Do you know why Mr. Northman is after her son?"

"Heck if I know. I'm not paid to answer questions like that. Ask your maker, fledgling." The vampire left abruptly before he could ask anything else.

Subtlety was not their forte. Frustrated he had been left stone cold, Bo hunkered down on the side of a leather lounge chair. He sipped on his beverage, but True Blood was rather bland compared to how Rose tasted. His extended canines hit the glass. Bo flinched. He would have to ask for a straw next time.

Bo watched as a fangbanger and a vampire drifted into a dark corner of the room. They ground against each other to the beat, in a weird sex dance Bo had never seen before. It was like watching clothed porn but with uglier actors. The fangbanger, a rather average woman on the bad side of plump, rubbed her hands against her partner s sides. For his part, the vampire looked like an evil version of Mr. Rogers, complete with sweater and coordinating slacks. It wouldn t surprise Bo if he got nightmares from those two.

He switched his attention back to the dance floor. Now that he thought about it, this was the most he had ever seen of the undead. Bo could almost understand the attraction to it all. Even he was getting a little hot. There were more important things to take care of however.

The information about his mother's past intrigued him. He wished he could have learned more. Nearly his entire life Bo figured his mother was no more than a simple, sweet-hearted waitress. Despite some odd situations he encountered with her, nothing had prepared him for this. A telepathic mom who worked for vampires? And dated them?

Bo wasn't sure what he would do now. No Viking meant no truce, and no truce meant he still had a target on his back. Honestly, the more time he spent in Louisiana, the more he felt danger lurked around every corner. He'd take Harlem at night over Bon Temps at this point.

Checking his watch, Bo's shoulders drooped. It was getting late. Already it was midnight and he hadn't even finished cleaning the shutters in the dining room. Bo had gained a lot of respect for maids over the past two days. The teen yawned. Usually, he was an avid nightwalker. Something about the dark made him feel more awake, more alert. At this very second however, Bo just wanted a nice hot shower and a comfy bed. He silently went over to-do lists in his brain, not noticing the female approaching him until it was too late.

"You know, prying around and asking questions isn't the smartest thing to do at a bar. Sometimes, it can get you killed."

Bo gulped. The lady was as beautiful as she was dangerous. He never thought he would be intimidated by someone in a pink sweater with a white collar, but at that moment, Bo felt like shitting bricks. Her high-heels made a clicking noise every time she took a step. This stranger couldn t possibly be more inhuman. She was a vampire.

"I,uh need to use the restroom. Excuse me." Bo tried to lose her in the followed him slowly, which frightened him even more.

"Oh please, go right ahead." Even over the substantial bar noise, her voice sounded loud and clear. She fingered the pearls around her neck. "I've got all the time in the world."

Bo felt trapped. One of the bouncers was guarding the restroom door. He frantically searched for a way out. The woman in pink was getting closer. He caught sight of Rose, moping at a corner table. Her camera was missing. Two vampires flanked her on either side. He noticed her expression. It as ashen as his.

"Don't make me dirty my new Chanel, hun." The woman appeared behind him, making Bo's heart skip a beat. He didn't even hear her take a step. This vampire was in a completely different league from Tim. She was deadly. "Blood doesn t come out of these kinds of clothes, no matter what bleach you use."

Bo tried to push her away. The look she gave him was lethal. He broke out in a cold sweat and walked faster. Frantically, he pushed his way through the throng of people. One on the left, three on the right. Bo reached a wall. He swerved around, facing the blockade. Bo grasped around for something to throw. The female vampire sauntered on, only twenty feet away. She mouthed three words.

You cannot escape.

Bo pulled the fire alarm.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

**Reviews are appreciated. Tips and suggestions are too. Hope you enjoy this chapter. **

* * *

><p>Chapter 11<p>

The fire alarm system malfunctioned. Apparently vampires were not the type to check on those sorts of things. The sprinklers went on, people screamed and the bar descended into chaos. Combined with the alarm noise, the vampires were distracted enough for Bo to slip by. He zipped open his backpack and pulled out the softball bat faster than he would have thought possible. His first order of business were the vampires guarding Rose. He swung the heavy bat into the stomach of one of the guards, knocking him down long enough for the teens to make their escape. He whispered a quick apology to the prone vampire. It wasn't in his nature to hurt others, but Bo doubted the man would have given up Rose so easily. Bo grasped Rose's arm and rushed toward the exit. He could hear the bloodsucker dressed in pink (clearly the leader in the Sheriff's absence) yelling orders, but the humans drowned out most of what she was saying. A flurry of movement on the floor allowed for the two to bolt out of there.

The water from the sprinklers smelled disgusting. For all Bo knew, it had probably been centuries since they were actually used. Halfway through the door, Bo caught a glimpse of the Chanel lady. Her make-up and outfit were ruined. Pure rage distorted her milkmaid features. The boy picked up his speed. That was not a battle he wanted to face anytime soon.

Bo's body felt like lead. His confrontation with Tim did little to prepare him for the scary female vampire. Like Mr. Compton, she walked silently, as though he was the prey and she the predator. Only luck had saved him from meeting an early end tonight.

He never, ever wanted to visit Fangtasia again.

The fresh, open night sky greeted the teens. The stars were mostly obscured by the lights of the city, but the moon shone brightly. People were rushing to their cars with haste. Bo could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance. Most of the vampires were still inside the bar, perhaps trying to figure out what the hell had happened. It wouldn't be long, however, until they would come for him.

A black limousine pulled up in front of them. Before Bo could even process what was happening, the door opened.

"Get in." Mr. Compton's voice was colder than Antarctica. Bo and Rose didn't argue, but got into the car.

Bo had never been inside a limo before. The leather upholstery alone probably cost more than the rent for his apartment back in NYC. The floor was carpeted with what appeared to be tiger fur; on the ceiling, a large glass chandelier hung from a hook. The windows were covered with purple shades bearing a distinctive royal design. Everything in the car was classier than Bo could imagine. There were even fancy wine bottles in a basket in the center of the car.

Mr. Compton looked displeased—one glance could tell you that. His pinstripe suit was wrinkled and the soles of his shoes were caked with mud. Bo tried to keep his eyes on the ground, but it was difficult. His curiosity ate at him. Rose shifted around by his side, a pained expression in her eyes. Noticing the rather strong grip he had on her forearm, Bo released her. She relaxed slightly.

The vampire gave them a minute to catch their breath.

"I didn't think you would be this stupid. You didn't seem like the type to rush headlong into danger. Apparently, I was wrong." Mr. Compton was not a happy camper.

"How did you find out?" Bo said after a short silence.

"A little kangaroo told me."

"You broke into my house?" Bo said in disbelief.

Mr. Compton crossed his legs. "You weren't there. I was worried."

Bo sensed another presence in the car. "Is he...?"

"He's sleeping in the trunk."

A faint banging against metal could be overheard. Bo didn't comment. "Did he tell you everything?"

"Yes. It surprises me Eric acted so brashly, so quickly, but he's always been a hothead in his own way. I didn't think he would do it so near to the elections, though." Mr. Compton rubbed his temples.

"And putting out a hit on me was his way of dealing with his emotional hang-up over my mom?" Bo was annoyed. Where was a psychologist when you needed one?

"The only thing Eric knows about you is your name and the connection to your mother. It's best we keep it that way; we don't want anyone else finding out about your... condition."

"Excuse me, but am I the only one confused by what's happening? Where are we going? What 'condition' are you talking about?" Rose interrupted.

"You brought your girlfriend to Fangtasia?" Mr. Compton's frown deepened.

"She's not my girlfriend." Bo retorted.

"This 'girlfriend' has a name you know." The girl interjected.

"Rose, now is not the time." Bo glared at her.

Mr. Compton's mouth formed a thin, straight line. "Your name is Rose? You... wouldn't happen to be one of the Bellefleur's would you?"

Rose nodded. "Yeah. My dad's the Sheriff of Bon Temps. How did you know I was one?"

"I see..." Silence filled the tense air. "Is that a bite mark on your neck?"

"Bo bit me."

The accused frantically waved his hands in defense. "But she asked me to."

Mr. Compton said nothing. Most of the taste of Rose's blood had disappeared from Bo's mouth. He was back to normal, his normal at least. He licked his lips. Rose squirmed around, her hand nearly touching his. She felt as uncomfortable as he did.

Bo decided to change the subject. "Why didn't you tell me my mother worked for vampires, Mr. Compton?"

"I didn't think it was important at the time."

"Not important? This is my mother we're talking about! Everything about her is important to me! She's my mom!" Bo shouted. His emotions were running wild. The night was turning out far worse than he'd anticipated. Too many unanswered questions were filling his head. "You keep leaving me in the dark, saying I'm in danger, but how can I protect myself if I don't even know what wants to kill me?"

"Bo, do you know what you are? How important your existence is?" The vampire's expression was cold and collected.

"What are you talking about?" Bo was a regular joe. Sure, there was that... but Bo didn't think it was that big of a deal.

"There are only a select few who know who you are; your mother made sure of that. And now, it appears, two more will be joining that group."

Tim stopped banging the inside of the trunk. Suddenly, everyone's attention fell on Bo. Warmth spread over his cheeks. He wasn't used to being the center of discussion.

"You mean... the whole vampire-human thing? So... you were telling the truth? Does that mean I was turned when I was a baby? Vampires can't have children, so how..."

Mr. Compton gazed softly at Bo. "You are right. Vampires are infertile. But you were not turned. Otherwise, you would be fully vampire. Thus, as much as it is against my nature to say, the impossible has become possible."

"So Bo's a human-vampire hybrid?" Rose couldn't look more fascinated than she already was. Bo could almost see her brain typing up a column about him.

"Yes. As unfeasible as it sounds, Bo is a fusion of both species. The product of a human mother and a vampire father."

"Who's the father then?" said Rose.

Bo was speechless.

Mr. Compton turned to him. "Do you truly want to know, Bo? It won't be a pleasant surprise, I assure you. This may not be something you're ready to accept."

Bo found himself at a crossroads. It wasn't as if he didn't want to find out who his father was. When he was younger, he even dreamed of it. A father to play football with, a father to talk about girls to, a father he could look up to...

But Bo was over such things. No, that was a lie. More than anything, Bo was afraid of finding out. If his father really was... a vampire, then a lot of his fantasies would be gone in an instant. All the daydreams about fishing off the coast of Cape Cod, learning how to drive, all of it would be gone. No reunion between his folks, no watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. His father was a vampire. Someone who would outlive him by hundreds of years. And Bo would change. He would grow old, shrivel up, and die. His father would be the same forever, an ageless force of inhumanity. Did his father even care that Bo existed in the first place? No. Bo didn't want to let go of his fantasies just yet. This revelation couldn't come at a more disastrous hour.

Bo shook his head. It was one of the hardest decisions he'd made in his life. "Another time maybe. I... I don't think I can handle any more information tonight." His mind felt like mush; any more surprises and he might go bonkers.

Mr. Compton nodded. "Another day, then. You can understand why it's so important to keep you secret, yes? If any more people find out, especially vampires, your life as you know it would be but a pleasant memory."

"You mean... I can't write an article on it? But Bo is a miracle of science!" Rose exclaimed. "He could help cure diseases! He could—"

Mr. Compton turned to Rose, his eyes bright and distinct. There was a glassiness to them. The darks of his pupils contrasted with the whites surrounding them. His voice came out smooth and persuasive. A weird, tingly feeling arose in Bo.

"You won't remember anything that happened tonight, Rose Bellefleur. You were at your friend's house watching a movie. It ended late. The bite on your neck was from a mosquito. You never met Bo or me. You've never even heard of a vampire bar named Fangtasia."

The driver opened the door. Rose's expression had a trance-like quality to it. A large, well lit house lay in the background. They were in Bon Temps before Bo even knew it. Taking her hand, the driver led her to the sidewalk. Bo almost shouted her name. Mr. Compton stopped him.

"Don't bother. She doesn't remember who you are anymore."

"What? Why? What did you do to her?"

"I glamoured her. Hypnotism for vampires, you could say."

"Then... she won't remember me? She'll forget everything that happened tonight?"

"Yes. My apologies, but it is best to keep humans out of this. Your girlfriend included."

"For the last time, she is not my girlfriend!"

"Then stop staring at her backside."

Bo could swear he heard snickering coming from the back of the car. He fought his embarrassment and tried to get angry again.

"A word of caution: It's best you keep your distance from her."

Bo rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "You're not the boss of me."

"Unless you want to endanger her, I would suggest you be quiet about this entire thing."

Bo regarded Mr. Compton crossly. "You mean the whole vampire/human stuff?

"Yes."

His anger rose. As if the night could get any worse, the vampire was lecturing him now? "What if I don't want to?"

Mr. Compton moved fast; Bo barely caught himself from falling over. He was instantly at Bo's side, his face only inches away. Did vampires not understand the concept of personal space? "Don't. Fight. Me. On. This. Sookie asked me to watch over you. Unless you would like to be probed and prodded by the American government or any other organization, I strongly advise you to keep your mouth shut."

The teen clenched his teeth. "I'm not some pet you can boss around! My mom may have asked for your help, but I certainly don't want it."

"Be that as it may, you don't have a say in this."

Bo scooted to the opposite end of the seat, putting as much distance as he could between them. "Shut up! You keep leaving me here without any of your so-called 'protection'! What do you want me to do? Give me some information, dammit!"

"The more information you have, the more danger you will encounter. I can't risk that."

Bo groaned, banging his head against the car seat. This was going nowhere. He did not have the strength to keep going with Mr. Mysterious. Struggling to control his frustration, he counted to ten, inhaling and exhaling until he felt calmer.

At last, he spoke. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

Mr. Compton relaxed his sharp features a tad. "I know we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. Believe me: I am as frustrated as you are about this entire situation. But let me protect you in the best way that I can. I've done a lot of things in my life I regret. Please... I don't want to break another promise."

"So I'm just a promise, then?"

His voice became warmer. "No... not at all. I don't want you to think that. Sookie asked me to help you, yes. But that doesn't mean I don't want to get to know you as well. You're a good kid. Perhaps a bit naïve, but still, a good kid. Can you please just trust me a little?"

Bo mulled that over. "Only a little. I want something in return, though."

"That would depend on what you want."

"Knowledge. Anything you can find on mom's murder, I want you to tell me straight away. Got it? The moment you hear something, you relay that information to me."

"I can comply with that."

"I'll keep you to it, then."

They spent the rest of the trip in quiet contemplation.


	12. Chapter 12

****Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.****

Thank you so much for each and every review. A huge giant thank you to my beta Wandersfar as well. Hope this chapter is alright.

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><p>Chapter 12<p>

Bo arrived home at a quarter to one. The house was pitch black. Stars peeked out over the horizon; he had never seen so many. He lifted himself up and out of the car. The night's adventures were starting to catch up with him. His brain felt fuzzy and his thoughts were scrambled. Tonight he'd learned that not only did he have an undead absentee father, but his mother had worked for and even dated two vampires herself. He wasn't sure what to think about that.

He paused mid-step on his way to the door. Wait, his mother had dated only two vampires to his knowledge: Mr. Compton and the Viking. Did that mean... one of them was his dad? He almost gagged. Suddenly his choice of not knowing seemed a lot better. It also made him warier of Mr. Compton and Mr. Northman. He sincerely hoped neither of them was his real dad. That would be... awkward, to say the least.

Mr. Compton settled on the white bench on the porch while Bo stood uneasily by the door. The young man barely trusted the vampire but still offered him some True Blood out of hospitality.

"No, I'm fine. Did you have any yet?"

Bo nodded. "I had one with my breakfast."

The vampire scrutinized him. "You can eat solids?"

"Can't everyone?"

Mr. Compton paused. "Interesting," was all he said.

Bo's hand clutched the strap of his backpack. It was a lot lighter than earlier. The teen's eyes widened; his right hand was empty. He must have dropped the bat back at Fangtasia. The poor boy resisted the urge to groan.

"You should drink another bottle before you go to bed. There are still bruises on your neck." Mr. Compton suggested.

Bo blushed then spat out, "Thanks, mom. I wouldn't even be in this mess if someone had decided to tell me about Mr. Douche-pire."

"Perhaps if you didn't run off this wouldn't have happened. I hope you know this outfit cost a pretty penny; I searched everywhere until I found your vampire friend."

"He's not my friend." Bo retorted defensively.

Mr. Compton sighed, sounding tired. "I will deal with Eric. You should recover and stay out of trouble."

"Why is Eric even after me? It can't just be because I'm my mom's kid."

"Unfortunately, I am as confused as you are. Eric is not usually one to act so rashly, but he... was rather torn up after Sookie's disappearance. He did not keep in contact with her like I did." Bo could swear a smirk was making its way onto Mr. Compton's face.

While not the most observative of people, Bo could tell there was something going on between Mr. Compton and the Viking Sheriff. Whatever their beef was, Bo didn't want any part of it. He was learning the prudence of staying out of vampire affairs. He valued his life more than that. The teen stretched his arms and yawned, drained from the night's adventure.

"What does it mean to be a 'Sheriff'? Tim told me Mr. Northman was the Sheriff of Area Five."

"Tim should have kept his mouth shut." Mr. Compton said coolly. "We — vampires, that is — have our own sort of government."

"Does the American government know?"

"I have said too much already. I would tell you more, but now... things are a bit tied up." Mr. Compton got up from the bench.

Bo pulled his hands causally behind his back. "Can I... also do the vampire hypnotism thing?"

Mr. Compton looked at him thoughtfully. "I do not know. Would you like to practice when I get back?"

"I... maybe. If you have time." Bo said, staring at his shoes. "It would probably be useful." Bo's mind wandered back to the women at Fangtasia. Could he—

"You are not using it to pick up chicks."

Bo choked on air. He glared at the vampire. "I didn't say that!"

"Your expression said it all." Mr. Compton replied.

"You're such a smart-ass," Bo huffed.

Mr. Compton said nothing. Bo had a feeling he probably did that a lot.

He switched his gaze from his feet back to Mr. Compton. "What are you going to do with the Aussie?"

"I will see that he is put to good use," replied Mr. Compton obscurely. "I will be gone for a couple of weeks or so. There is a convention in Oklahoma I am required to attend. And I beg of you, do not get into any more trouble, supernatural or otherwise. I may not be able to bail you out."

Bo threw him a cross look. "Don't treat me like a little kid. And stop getting involved in my daily life. I don't want any more surprise 'gifts' like today. I can take care of myself."

A hint of a smile flashed across the vampire's face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Bo couldn't get his head around Mr. Compton. He was so mysterious and unreadable. Being able to read minds like his mom would have come in handy right about then.

"Be careful, Bo. My phone number is on the refrigerator."

"Yeah, thanks." Bo said sarcastically. He'd had just about enough of the undead.

The kitchen was cleaner than he had left it. At least the old vampire was good for something. Only his mother's silver necklaces remained where they were. A yellow sticky note was pasted onto his refrigerator as Mr. Compton had said it would be. Bo was tempted to throw it in the trash, but having an emergency number to call in case of trouble would be useful, even if it was from Mr. Stick-up-his-ass. Bo collapsed into a chair, gathering his bearings for a minute, then rose again.

His first order of business would be a nice, long bath. He twisted the knob of the bathtub and pushed down the plug. He turned on some music his mom used to listen to. Bo made a playlist for her birthday a year ago. They had ordered pizza and played Speed until her shift started. Memories like these were a treasure to him now.

Bo stripped and gently got into the tub. His ribs were healing quite nicely, but the bruises around his neck were still there. They would be healed by the morning. Bo was like that. He dipped his head under the water. Echoes of an Elvis song danced around in his head. Bo smiled. It was times like these he could pretend he had no worries. For a split second, Bo could imagine his mom knocking on the door and yelling at him to stop wasting the hot water.

Bringing his hands to his eyes, Bo examined them. They were normal, human hands. Perhaps a bit too pale for his liking, but living nonetheless. It was still hard to swallow the half vampire aspect of his being. He'd seen videos of vampires online. They were not happy, cheerful creatures by any means. That wasn't to say Bo would completely rule them out as bad, however. Mr. Compton, as bizarre and secretive as he may be, did save him from becoming vampire chow. Bo wondered if there were any normal, human-like vampires out in the universe.

Rinsing himself, Bo pulled out the drain. There was something he wanted to see. Wrapping a towel around his waist he positioned himself in front of the mirror. He opened his mouth. He carefully checked the white structures. They felt normal enough. Nothing out of order. He brought out the extra teeth. They came down quickly, nearly pricking his index finger.

There were much longer than his regular teeth, and thinner too. Staring at himself in the mirror, Bo could understand why vampires thought he was one of them. Haggard and fanged, Bo could only watch for a second more before he turned away. He retracted his fangs and looked again. A pale, frightened teen greeted him.

There was always something wrong with him. Between his lack of interest in academics and getting into fights at school, Bo's life had been less than peachy keen. He wasn't a trouble-maker or goodie two shoes, just somewhere in between. If he could do it over, he might have tried harder, listened in class more, kept away from kids who thought he was an easy target. As it turned out however, Bo had become an uneasy teen in a world full of adults. The fear of the unknown gripped him at every turn.

This wasn't the way he wanted his life to be. Homesickness gripped his soul. Bo deeply missed the little apartment he shared with his mom. He missed his friends, the elderly couple across the hall, the cozy street where he grew up. He missed the tall skyline and endless light, even in the dead of night. There was no such thing as "night" in New York.

The boy dropped onto the bed, too tired to put on clothes. Bo turned his head to the window, wondering how things had changed so much in so little time. A month ago, Bo had a mom and a cozy two-bedroom apartment. Now, he not only was without a mother, but more than one group was after his head. Not only that, but he wasn't even completely human. He was a mix of the living and the dead. No one else was like him. Bo was alone.

No, Bo wasn't alone. He had family. He had a job. And he had his health. Self-pity wouldn't do anything for him but cause more problems. So he was unique. Everyone was unique. Sure, he could throw trees and outrun cars, but Bo felt the same feelings and pains as everyone else. Maybe he wasn't fully human, but he was half, and that was enough. Vampires were once humans, too, so maybe there were good ones and bad ones like the rest of humanity.

Bo flopped onto his back. His throat stung. It was a sensation he carried with him all his life. Now at least he understood why. It wasn't what he would have chosen, but it was part of him nevertheless. It was going to be hard to accept 'that' side of his nature. It might even take forever. He shuddered over that word. Forever.

What would it be like, to live forever? Surely one would get tired of the same things, over and over again. To watch your friends and family die around you, to always see the same thing night after night. Bo had never thought too deeply about being frozen in time. He didn't want to. The notion felt far too foreign and lonely. He had a family, a life, and friends (though they rarely texted these days).

Bo hoped he wouldn't have to live for eternity.

That would suck.

Tomorrow would be better; it had to be. He mentally checked off things on his to do list. There would be more work to do on the house, plus he had to work at night. He would need to clean out the tool shed, repolish the wooden floors, and clean his dirty clothes. He wasn't much of a cook, so most of the food in the house was either canned or eaten raw. The matter of Mr. Compton's contractors would also be revisited. Bo sighed. It was at times like this that he missed living as a carefree teen in the Empire city. He yawned again, sleep invading his mind like a fog, shutting down the last few layers of consciousness. He blinked once or twice. Slowly, the last outpost of his mind drifted away, leaving him in darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

**Reviews are always welcome. If you have any questions about this story that you absolutely must know, PM me if you'd like. Hope everyone has had a good weekend. A giant thank you once again to my beta Wandersfar. Please enjoy this chapter.  
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><p>Chapter 13<p>

"You're Bernard Stackhouse, right?"

Bo didn't need to turn around to know who it was. He could recognize that voice anywhere. He almost said her name, but stopped himself just in time; he wasn't supposed to know her. Instead, Bo kept scrubbing the table, just nodding. He felt uncomfortable making small talk with someone who was only glamoured the night before. He felt guilty.

Well, perhaps not as guilt-ridden as he could have been, but enough to warrant some self-reflection. Rose didn't deserve to lose her memories, even if they were only an hour or two's worth. Maybe he should rethink asking Mr. Compton to teach him glamour. Tricking people did not gibe with Bo's moral code, as useful as it might be.

The girl in question flicked back one of her short locks. In the light, her features were far clearer, a handful of freckles gracing the arch of her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were a lighter brown as well, displaying a multitude of easily read expressions matched only by her mouth. A mischievous grin curled her lips. "My name's Rose Bellefleur. I'm a part of the school newspaper. Are you going to be attending Bon Temps High School this upcoming semester?"

There was no way to avoid her. He sent a pleading look to Mr. Merlotte, but he was too busy manning the counter to notice. Bo felt trapped. "No, I dropped out of high school in the spring."

"How did your mother take it—wait, sorry. That was probably a bit too personal." Rose commented softly, her face deflating.

"No, it's fine. Mom wasn't very happy about it but we needed the money. It was my choice. This isn't an interview, is it?"

"Oh no. I'm just interested in you." Rose smiled. The boy's heart skipped a beat.

"Wait, really?" Bo was perplexed. "Why? What's so interesting about me?"

"If you haven't noticed, Bon Temps is not the most exciting town in Louisiana. No one's moved here in years. Why did you even choose this old town?"

"I didn't see any reason not to." Bo replied. "Besides, I have family down here. New York can go on without me."

"You're from _New York_? As in New York City?" Her voice became slightly higher. It didn't surprise Bo. NYC was practically a Mecca for reporters and journalists since the LA Earthquake eleven years ago. He had been too young to remember it but apparently a good portion of the West Coast was affected.

"Yeah. I was born there."

"What's it like?"

Bo mused on her question. Describing New York City in one answer was impossible. He could walk from Brooklyn to the Bronx with a blindfold on. The tastes and experiences he'd accumulated there weren't something he could sum up in one answer. It was home.

"It's got good pizza." Bo mentally slapped himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of all the things to say, he had to talk about food.

"Bo, stop flirting. We need you to take out the trash." Susan, a waitress he met before his shift, said.

Bo's cheeks flushed red hot. He scurried to the kitchen to take out the garbage. Working at Merlotte's Bar and Grill wasn't too hard. Cleaning tables, putting trash into the dumpster, and other dirty jobs were not new to him. He worked as a busboy at his mother's restaurant for a long time. It was one of the few times in the day when they could see each other.

Merlotte's staff consisted of four working waitresses, one cook, and now, a busboy. The oldest of the four waitresses, Susan, was a mother of three and began doting on him the moment they met. Karen, a brunette attending night school at the nearby community college, was nice enough to introduce herself but appeared fairly indifferent to his presence like the rest of the waitstaff. Terry, the cook, was a nice older man, Bo thought. A little more off than most, but that was okay.

Mr. Merlotte was the true mystery. He'd never met a shifter before. Susan had mentioned it to him in passing, which only increased his interest. Bo wondered what sort of animal he could transform into. Was he a werewolf? A were-tiger? Or something else entirely?

His white and black uniform fit alright, if a little loose in some places. Bo wasn't the skinniest kid on the block, but he was definitely on the smaller side for men. He'd grown over four inches since spring however, so all hope was not lost. His shoulders had broadened as well, but not enough to be notable, sadly. Bo wished he could grow up faster. Being a teenager sucked.

By the time he got back Rose had vamoosed with her friends to his disappointment. She left him a nice tip however. Bo traveled back and forth between the kitchen and dining area for the rest of the night. The work was heavier than what he was used to, but he didn't mind. As the sole busboy for the small restaurant he had been prepared.

For a strange moment, Bo thought towards the future. What would he do with his life from now on? Getting a second job and completing work on the house were his immediate goals, but later? Would he continue living in Bon Temps for the rest of his life? He had always wanted to travel, but those kind of dreams were drifting away from reality these days. It was scary to think about. What would Bo be doing when he was middle-aged? A senior citizen? Would he even reach that age?

And then there was the whole vampire question. How long until people figured out Bo wasn't a normal kid? The strength and speed were not things he could easily hide. Even in New York, a city of millions of people, he remembered barely scrapping by hiding himself. His breath caught in his throat. What if he didn't age after a certain time, like eighteen or so? Had he inherited his father's immortality along with his other strange attributes? Would he be doomed to outlive his friends and family?

"Bo, could you help me with these boxes?" Mr. Merlotte's voice dispersed his contemplations.

The young man snapped out of his stupor. "Huh? Yeah, yes, of course. Where to?" Bo asked, grabbing three boxes with relative ease. Mr. Merlotte raised one eyebrow but said nothing.

"Uh, to my office. You okay with carrying that much weight there, Bo? Those things must way a ton alone."

"No problemo, sir." Bo hesitated, then continued, "I work out a lot."

"Really," Mr. Merlotte didn't seem too convinced. "Mind carrying the rest for me then?"

With little effort, Bo finished the job in a matter of minutes. Mr. Merlotte didn't speak with him again until closing. Something in his face told Bo he might have blown his cover. Bo caught the man staring at him whenever there was free time but he was silent. Bo hoped he wouldn't lose his job. It was his first night, too!

Most of the waitresses went home after twelve. The majority of the customers were long gone before then, with the exception of one or two town drunks. Terry was out the door by the time Bo washed and wiped down the last plate. His fingers were wrinkled and smelled of cheap soap and grease. Only Mr. Merlotte and Bo were left in the restaurant.

It wasn't as if Bo hadn't helped close up shop before. Mr. Merlotte turned off the lights and called him into his office. Bo tensed up but did as he was ordered. Merlotte's had twice as much area as the bars in his old neighborhood, though with so much empty space around, it was not a huge surprise. Along with the kitchen there were a couple rooms in the employee area, his new boss's at the end.

The office wasn't much to look at, furnished only with a bookcase in the corner, a metal safe, two chairs and a desk. There were pictures on the walls, but none stood out. Bo wondered if Mr. Merlotte had pictures of shifters as well somewhere. Or was shifting into an animal a personal affair? Did they do it out in the woods or in their houses? The older male shuffled through some of his files, though his eyes were staring directly at Bo.

"You did well today. Sookie would have been proud."

Bo smiled sheepishly. Flattery was his weak point. "Um, thanks. It's nice working here. Thank you for letting me on."

"I was hoping I could have you on as a regular for the weekdays. When can I see you?"

"Anytime, Mr. Merlotte. I'm free most hours of the day."

"5 to 12 then. Dinner is always busier than the lunch crowd. I'll call you in otherwise if we need an extra hand."

"Understood." Bo nodded. "Mr. Merlotte, can I ask you something?"

Mr. Merlotte deposited a handful of papers on the desk, likely bills of some sort. "If it is appropriate, sure."

"Can you tell me about my mom? Did she like working here?"

The old shifter paused. Finally, he shrugged and said, "Well, she never said anything against it. Sookie usually did her job like everyone else. She knew most of the patrons by heart, too, since she was a local. That was helpful."

"You're not from around here?"

"I'm originally from Texas."

"Oh." For a silly moment Bo imagined Mr. Merlotte in a cowboy hat and boots. No more late night reruns of The Lone Ranger for him. Bo shuffled his feet. He was unsure of how to ask the next question. At last, he said, "Was mom really a telepath?"

Mr. Merlotte paused. "You didn't know?"

"Bill Compton told me. It was not something I ever thought about."

"Yes, yes she was. She was well-known in the shifter world, too."

"And you're a shifter, right?"

"Susan told you that, did she? The whole town's known for a good number of years."

"You overheard Susan and me?"

"I'm a shifter. We have better senses than most." Mr. Merlotte turned serious. "Which leads me to ask, what exactly are you?"

"Huh?"

"You don't smell like any normal human. You've got your mom in you for sure, but those boxes were way too easy for you to carry."

"I'm just a fit guy." Bo said too quickly. Mr. Merlotte easily caught on.

"Don't lie. You've probably got some Were-blood in you or something. It doesn't surprise me that your mother would fall for a Supe. Normal guys just weren't for her. Do you see your father a lot?"

"I don't even know who he is," Bo admitted. Though he had a hunch. But between a Viking and his creepy next-door neighbor, he didn't think he'd ever be ready to call either one of them 'Dad.' Just the thought sent shivers down his spine. To think he was partially undead was harrowing to him. Did that mean he was constantly rotting? He pushed away the mental images.

"Sorry. That's sad to hear. I'm sure Sookie had her reasons."

"Like what?" Bo asked. The shifter shrugged.

"I'm in the same boat as you, kid." Mr. Merlotte checked the time. "When is your uncle going to get here? It's almost one in the morning."

Bo gave him a lop-sided smile he hoped was convincing, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "It's okay. You go on ahead. I'll wait outside."

Mr. Merlotte yawned. Dark circles were under his eyes. "Let me give you my cell if he doesn't arrive. Jason isn't exactly the most reliable guy."

Bo didn't tell his boss his uncle left him a text message five minutes before closing saying he couldn't make it. Bo didn't want to bother the man; he could just run home, it wasn't too far off. If he stayed on the roads he would be back in no time. Bo walked into the middle of the parking lot. The moon was half full. He wondered if the shifter always transformed during a full moon or if he could control it. Was the change quick or slow? Mr. Merlotte packed up and drove off quietly. When he was out of sight, Bo departed in the opposite direction. He had a lot to prepare for the funeral.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Wow! More than one hundred reviews! Thank you would be too small of a phrase to show how gracious I am to everyone. Another huge thank you to my Beta Wandersfar who has been nothing but sweet and awesome. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Critiques and tips on better writing are always welcome.

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><p>Chapter 14<p>

Gray skies overcast the solemn afternoon. It rained for most of the ceremony; the forecast predicted a slight drizzle, but it was really more of a downpour. It was almost fitting. The cemetery lay little more than a five-minute walk from the farmhouse, which allowed him private time with her grave later should he need it. There were things he wanted to say, but felt too shy to discuss around other people. Maybe it was a little crazy, talking to a grave, but after the last couple of days, Bo felt he was entitled.

Sweet Home Cemetery was one of the oldest parts of town. Withered graves, rusted iron gates, and looming trees only added to the melancholy atmosphere. There were few animals around. His mother's tombstone would be placed on the family plot where all the other Stackhouses were buried. He spotted his grandparents' and great-grandmother's graves. Sookie's open plot sat between his grandparents, her tombstone bright white against the older stones.

Her will left Bo with a majority of her possessions, including a nice bank account. It didn't mean he could quit his job and move to the Bahamas, but it gave him a good enough cushion should he be injured or the house be more damaged than it already was. His uncle received a piece of it, which Bo didn't mind. Uncle Jason had spent his own cash to visit Bo in New York, and he had hosted Bo during his first few days in Louisiana.

Bo met his second cousin before the procession. Hunter was a dark-haired man in his early twenties. He shared his memories of Sookie with Bo, though it had been some time since he'd last seen her. Hunter reminded Bo of his mom in a way. Not in appearance, but in the way they carried themselves among crowds. Hunter regarded him strangely when he first shook Bo's hand, but after that they got on well together. Bo invited him over for dinner when the repairs on the house were completed. It was in much better shape than when he'd first moved in, but he still needed to hire a few more contractors to finish the job.

The funeral itself was hard to bear. Bo started sobbing halfway through, leaning against his uncle for support. The dam broke for both of them. No one bothered to interrupt the episode. Losing his mom, his greatest supporter, caused something to break in him. Moms were not supposed to die. His mother was supposed to be there for his high school graduation, his first girlfriend, his entrance into college, his marriage, his first-born child... This all felt wrong. Why was she killed? Why couldn't she have gone out for a night on the town? The shock of her murder was still fresh in his thoughts. He could almost taste the strange burnt smell he encountered when he found her body.

Settling himself into his uncle's arms, he choked up for a few more minutes. Bo barely noticed the preacher's words. A good hundred or so people had attended, maybe more. He recognized a few from New York and half were probably members of the Bon Temps community, but the rest were a mystery. His mother had certainly been busy.

He could barely keep up with all the people he had been introduced to. His mom's supposed best friend Tara began crying instantaneously when she saw him. He met a couple shifters like Mr. Merlotte (who left straight after the funeral), but they kept their distance, gravitating towards his uncle instead. Bo wondered if they could pick up on his odd scent as Mr. Merlotte had. Everyone acted cautious around Bo, as if he could disappear at any moment.

There was one shifter, or Were, Bo wasn't sure, that approached him. He was flanked by two others not too far away. He wore a dark suit like most of the guests, but something about his presence made him stand out in the crowd. He shook Bo's hand and introduced himself as Alcide. He left it at that. Like the other shifters, Alcide had sniffed the air around Bo with a curious expression on his face. Bo made a mental note to be careful around the two-natured. He didn't want to reveal himself more than he already had.

Mr. Cataliades was one of the few people he recognized. He was a large man with a circular face. Bo had met him only a handful of times, but his mom's lawyer had treated him nicely, if a little oddly. He always seemed to carry a calculating smile, as though he knew something about Bo but refused to share the information. Bo wasn't sure if that was just a lawyer thing or a Cataliades thing. Either way, the guy was someone to be wary of.

A woman named Amelia gave him her card at the end of the funeral. She was a chatty Kathy for most of their conversation, interesting, if slightly annoying. Bo had never known Sookie had had a roommate. Ms. Amelia said to call her if anything came up, mentioning something about omens that Bo didn't fully understand. His mother sure had a lot of unusual friends.

Bo was most of all surprised to see Rose there. Dressed in a long black dress, she stayed away from most of the activity. Her pixie cut was pulled back by hairpins and a large gray headband. After the funeral, as cars started to leave the parking lot, Bo gathered up his nerve and approached her.

"Nice weather we're having." Bo remarked.

"Yes. Wonderful." Rose almost smiled. Then she clenched her jaw, as her face grew serious. "I'm sorry about your mother. I'm sure she was a great woman."

Bo sighed deeply. Crying helped, but the feeling of intense loss was still there. Would it ever go away? "She was. I really miss her, you know? She was... a great mother."

The young woman nodded shyly. "I'm sure she's in heaven right now, looking out for you."

"That's if there is a heaven at all."

"You don't think there is?"

Bo smiled sadly at her. "I don't know what to think anymore."

Truly he had too much on his mind to think about things like heaven and hell. He was never as religious as his mother, or the people of Bon Temps for that matter. That wasn't to say Bo didn't think about the possibility of an afterlife, he just wasn't sure whether he believed in it or not. In losing his mom, Bo felt an anger he didn't know how to handle. He wanted to blame someone, anyone. Most of all, though, he blamed himself.

A woman called out for Rose. She looked back to him. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all. See you at the bar sometime?"

A smile blossomed on Rose's face, and she looked more like herself. "Definitely."

The reception was quieter than the funeral had been. Jason's house once belonged to his grandparents, Bo had found out. It was pleasantly homey, but he liked his mother's house better. There was something about it that calmed him.

He scratched at the collar of his suit. Bo borrowed one of his uncle's since he didn't own one. He was usually a t-shirt and jeans sort of guy. The fanciest thing in his closet was a pair of dark slacks and a polo from his last birthday. Maybe when he had a little more money he could buy something nice... nah. Like that would ever happen.

His hair was slicked back nicely if he did say so himself. It made him look older, instead of younger like most people assumed. His face had thinned out slightly over the last two years, but he still had some baby fat. Bo was growing up he just wished it would happen sooner.

Two tables were pushed together in an L-shape in the living room, overflowing with casseroles. Bo stopped counting after fourteen. People really needed to bring more variety to these things. Was spaghetti or cheesecake too much to ask for? Conversations flowed around him like water. It was worse whenever he met someone's eyes. He hated the look of pity he often found there.

Pity was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it had probably landed him the job at Merlotte's. On the other, having people talk behind your back like they didn't even see you was irritating as hell. Bo's acute hearing made it worse. Listening in on everyone's comments about him was nearly unbearable. He could only take so much.

Thus, Bo spent most of his time playing outside in the wet grass with his younger cousins. The adults were too stuffy for him. He needed a break from all the emotional stuff. His uncle's kids: Mark, Molly, and Jason Jr., were tremendous balls of energy that could barely be contained. It was amazing they had even gotten through the burial without any of them causing a fuss. Mark, the closest to his age, was entering his second year of middle school and loved to make that clear. Molly, the middle child, was as cute as she was annoying. The last child, whom Bo considered the happy accident, was probably the most trouble-making of them all. Jason Jr., a blond monster of ferocious cunning, even gave Bo a run for his money from when he was a child. Bo rued the day he might have to babysit all three.

"Watch out Molly! Bo's going to get you!" Mark said jokingly.

"Argh! I'm gonna get you Molly! And your little brother, too!" Bo made claws with his hands, trying to appear as menacing as possible.

The two youngest children screamed and ran around the grounds. Bo easily caught up to them. He tucked Molly under one arm and Junior in the other. They laughed and wiggled, but Bo's grip was too strong. Mark watched with a wry grin.

"Oh, you're next, big guy." Mark's expression didn't have time to turn to shock before Bo trapped him with his legs. Mark's younger siblings egged the eldest boy on.

"Give him a nuggie!" Molly squealed. Her blonde pigtails fluttered about, her shaking messing up her hair. She looked more like her mother face-wise, but all three children were blonde like their father.

"Purple-Nurples!" Cried Junior. He shook his fists in excitement.

"Throw him into the mud!" Yelled Molly.

"How about let's not but say we did?" Mark said, nervousness evident in his tone.

"Yeah! Mud! Mud!" Junior agreed enthusiastically.

"You're outvoted 2 to 1, Mark." Bo smirked. "Any last words?"

Mark backed up into a tree. "I surrender! Don't, please! Mom's gonna kill me if I get this outfit dirty!"

Sadly, Bo was interrupted by Mrs. Stackhouse calling in the children before he could complete the deed. They scurried into the house like mice, careful to avoid mud puddles. Bo was glad one good thing came out of all the tragedy. Meeting family had been a dream come true.

The teen on the edge of adulthood stared off into the woods. He wished his mom could be here to see this. Why did she move away from Bon Temps? What was she trying to protect?

Me, Bo thought to himself. But from what? Did his mother leave because of Bo? The time periods matched up. He was born not too long after her disappearance. Moving to NYC, a city of millions of people, also lessened their exposure. Who was Bo being hidden from, though? Did this tie into one of the reasons she was killed? Bo was not Sherlock Holmes by any stretch of the imagination, but something didn't add up. There were people behind the scenes in this, people who were likely not big fans of Bernard Stackhouse.

One of the guests entered into his line of vision. Bo had seen him once or twice earlier, but he was too swept up with meeting family friends to take much notice. Bo was surprised he'd missed the man before. He was handsome, beautiful in an almost unearthly way, like a supermodel or actor. His face resembled Jason's, but was far younger and less weathered by stress. He was dressed in a gray suit and tie that looked custom-made. Heck, anything would probably look fantastic on him. The only thing that took away from the picture was his expression. Sadness. If despair had a face, this man was carrying it. Even with puffy red eyes and a depressed disposition, the man still outclassed any person Bo had come across.

He crossed the yard so softly Bo swore his feet barely touched the ground. The handsome man noticed Bo staring. His features shifted at once. He looked like he had just seen a ghost.

"Fintan? How?" Bo didn't have time to escape the other man's furious tackle. Hot wet tears bled onto his shoulder. Bo went rigid under his grasp. As if his week hadn't been bizarre enough. He sniffed instinctively. Hmm. Well, this was interesting. Bo bit his inner cheek to return to the problem at hand.

"How are you alive after so many years? Why didn't you show yourself sooner?" The man's accent was hard to place. It wasn't American, but it wasn't like anything Bo could place, either.

"Um... I think you have the wrong person." Bo struggled out of the man's grip. Even at full strength he couldn't escape. What kind of person was this? Was he even human?

"What?" The crazy man looked puzzled. He examined Bo's face far too closely than Bo would have liked. They were nose to nose.

"I said, I am probably not who you think I am. I'm not this Fintan guy."

"You are not Fintan? But your face, it's nearly identical... But, no, you're too young. And the coloring... Who are you?" A fragility in his tone made Bo feel uneasy, like the guy might break into a thousand shards of glass in an instant. He released Bo. Bo instantly stepped back two feet.

"I could ask the same question." Bo countered.

He bowed. Literally bowed. Bo could barely speak. "My sincerest apologies. I am Dermot. I... was a relative of Sookie. Who might you be?"

"I'm Sookie's son. Bo." He replied carefully.

"Sookie had a son? When?"

"Nearly eighteen years ago last time I checked."

Dermot struggled with what to say. "Why didn't she tell anybody?"

Bo stopped himself from making a sarcastic comment. The "relative" looked like he was a hair's width away from having a mental breakdown. Bo answered with a simple "I don't know." And left it at that.

Dermot, if that truly was the man's name, represented the very essence of downtrodden. "How did she die?"

Bo swallowed the emotions sprouting from his gut. They didn't need two guys breaking down in the middle of his uncle's yard. "Mom was murdered."

"By whom?"

"I wish I knew." Bo sighed, suddenly feeling a whole lot older and fatigued.

For a dark moment Bo imagined what he would do if he caught the killer. A coldness rushed over him. The second passed as quickly as it came. It left him feeling drained and dirty. Bo felt closer to the other side of himself then he had ever been before. It frightened him. The more he stayed in Bon Temps, the more he became someone he would rather not be. Bo Stackhouse of New York was a relatively normal teen with a love for the Yankees and street food. Bo Stackhouse of Bon Temps, well, he was a mystery. A mystery he wasn't sure he wanted to solve yet.

"That explains why you look so much like my brother. You and he are so very much alike." Dermot stared at Bo, taking him in like an architect would a piece of unsettled land. "He died a long time ago."

Dermot didn't appear to be much older than his mid-twenties to Bo, but Bo chose not to ask. He gave the man a once over. "How did he die?"

"He was killed."

Bo was beginning to suspect a theme in the Stackhouse family. How many people were ended by another's hand in their line? Did Dermot even come from that side, though? Either way, Bo was not getting any warm fuzzies from this newfound information. It just made him feel more agitated. "That's unfortunate. What happened to your parents?"

"My mother died many many years ago. My father... Well, we are still on the outs. He does not live here anymore."

"Do you have any other family members?"

"My cousin Claude, but I haven't seen him in years. He would also be a relative of yours."

"How did you find out about my mother's death?"

"Mr. Cataliades told me. My father probably knows as well. We searched for her after her disappearance, but she did not want to be found. Something prevented us from finding her." Dermot got into Bo's personal space again. "Why do you smell so weird?"

"Uh..." Bo imitated a deer caught in headlights.

Another voice saved him. "Bo! Come inside, it's starting to rain again!" Jason yelled.

Bo turned his head. "Just a minute! I'm talking to—"

Dermot was gone like the wind. Bo searched, but couldn't find any trace of him. It was like he hadn't even existed. But that couldn't be true.

Because Bo had never smelled anything more delicious in his life.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated. Thank you to my Beta Wandersfar once again! Suggestions and critiques are always welcome. I thank those of you who have pointed out the mistakes since that gives me an incentive to fix them. Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>Chapter 15<p>

Summer began to wane in Bon Temps. Mid-August was transitioning into September with utmost haste. His third week in the small town was going well so far, if that was any consolation. Tuesday night was slow, but the break in activity was not unwelcome. Bo found the lazy pace of life in Louisiana oddly bizarre. It was so different from his former home. More happened in a day in New York than in a whole week in Bon Temps. It was strange how time felt in a completely different setting.

Neon lights lit up the front windows. Out in the darkness, a couple of pickup trucks traveled past. The young man spotted one or two critters crawling around, their eyes bright and reflective in the night. He rolled his neck, getting out all the creaks. The urge to run was strong. His legs were tingly and the lack of movement was making him antsy. He couldn't complain however. Better to have a job than being unemployed.

The teenager cleaned another glass and set it on the counter. Bo had forgotten to drink over the weekend and he was beginning to get antsy. His throat felt as raw as sandpaper. Normally, Bo only had his thirst a few times a month. With all his encounters with the supernatural and the work around the house, however, it was worse than usual. Being half-vampire was a bitch.

He rinsed off another plate, sighing. Bo wished whoever his father was would get staked a thousand times in the balls. Not once, not twice, but three times he had been struck with symptoms of heat stroke working in the backyard for two hours. Two hours. In the morning. Not to mention the terrible sunburn he accumulated. That would be the last time he forgot to put on SPF 60. The heated red skin and migraines were not something Bo wanted to repeat again.

Skin problems aside, his hunger began to reach lower, to his more human organ. He forgot to eat dinner an hour ago. Not only was he thirsty, but he was getting the munchies as well. This was not his day. Bo clenched his hands in frustration. Unfortunately, he was still holding the forks he was cleaning. He released his iron fist. A handful of U-shaped utensils greeted him. Bo swerved around to see if anyone was looking. Bending down behind the counter in the kitchen, Bo rebent the forks back into their proper form. Not exactly perfect, but nobody would be able to tell the difference.

The door chimed. A new customer. Bo hurriedly put away the silverware. He jumped the food counter to greet them. Half of the waiting staff had come down with the flu, meaning Bo was playing more roles than he was accustomed to. The young man grabbed a tiny notepad and pencil from the back and made his way to seat the visitors. He immediately regretted it.

Rose was dressed up far more than he'd ever seen her before: a red spaghetti-strapped number with enough length to leave you guessing. She wore back heels and earrings to match. The girl was stunning. It was a little too formal for a place like Merlotte's, but Bo didn't mind the view. Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Rose brought a date.

The stranger could be described in one word: muscular. Bo estimated the other teen weighed about twice as much as he did, however it was not as if Bo couldn't take him down in a second. Her date was pure human. He also reeked of sex and steroids. Bo pegged him for one of the local high school football players. Of course, since he was wearing a letterman jacket and a jersey underneath, anyone could have figured that out. Bo plastered a fake grin on his face and led the two over to a booth.

"Is there anything I can get you guys to drink?" Bo said, boring holes into the back of the date's head. Why was Rose even with a guy like this?

"A water will be fine for me, Bo." Rose responded. "How about you, Daniel?"

"I guess a Coke would be alright." Daniel snorted. Bo's eyes narrowed. "Your name is 'Bo'?"

"So what if it is?"

"Kind of stupid if you ask me."

Rose frowned. "Daniel, don't be rude."

Bo's smile tightened. "Let's stick to drinks, please. Would you and your boyfriend like anything else?"

"He's not my boyfriend." Rose said.

"Not yet." Daniel sneered. The two boys silently examined each other, searching for weaknesses. Bo noticed Rose looking at him with a confused expression. He decided to be the bigger man and opted out of the rising tension. It didn't mean he felt any better by doing it however.

"I'll be right back with your drinks." Bo made his best attempt at formality. He nearly stomped back to the kitchen.

The teen brought the drinks as quickly as he could. He had a brief fantasy of pouring the coke down Danny-boy's shirt and then throwing him out, but he was not the owner of the bar. It didn't stop his fangs from coming out halfway, however. Shit. Of all the times to act up.

This shouldn't even be a problem. Weren't most vampires in control of their fangs? Or was Bo simply a failure at that as well? He never kept them around long enough to find out. Now, he needed to be careful of his fangs even when he tried to speak. Most of the time they slid out when he was emotional or aroused. Of course, as a nearly eighteen-year-old hormonal virgin, that was a more or less constant state for him.

Bo faked a cough and covered his mouth. Excusing himself, he turned away from Rose and her date. And then his day got even worse.

Dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved gray shirt, Bo barely recognized his former hit man. Without the distracting makeup, Tim's crooked nose and wide mouth were more prominent. He sat far away from the other patrons, in a booth near the window. Tim was watching Bo with amusement. The vampire waved. Bo glared. Stomping over to him, Bo made sure to pick up a knife along the way, just in case the Aussie attacked. He stuffed it into his pocket. Something told him Tim wasn't there to finish his previous errand, however.

"What are you doing here?" Bo whispered harshly, his hand over his mouth.

"Sorry, I couldn't hear you, mate. What did you say?" Tim flashed a smile full of teeth.

"Bullshit." Bo removed his hand, positioning himself in front of Tim. He didn't want anyone else finding out about his lovely incisors. "Didn't I tell you to keep away?"

"Oh my, what lovely teeth you have, Mr. Stackhouse. Have you come to eat me as well?" Tim said. He scoffed. "Believe me, I didn't come here out of my own free will."

Bo suddenly felt a cold sensation rush through his veins. "You're not going to try and kill me again, are you?"

Tim's eyes widened. "Oh no. Pretty much fucked in the rear on that one. Even if I tried, your little pal Mr. Compton would stake me before the night was over. No, I'm on another assignment."

"Get out. You are not killing one of the customers." The teen glared. Even if he didn't like Daniel he wasn't going to let one of the patrons leave in a body bag.

"Oh, I'm not here to kill anybody," Tim explained. "I'm here to protect you."

"Protect me?" The half-vampire could hardly believe his ears. "Excuse me, but aren't you the one who tried to kill me?"

"Orders are orders."

"But you suck at actually accomplishing them. You went down pretty fast by my recollection."

"That was only one time. You caught me by surprise." Tim defended himself in annoyance. "It's not every day you meet a dhampir."

Bo tried to collect his thoughts, giving Tim a bewildered look. "A what?"

"Dhampir. Half-human, half-vampire. Born of a human mother and vampire—"

"Shh!" Bo scanned the area. "Don't say that so loudly. My boss is a shifter. Where did you learn that word anyway?"

"I googled it." Tim said triumphantly, as if it were some huge accomplishment. Oh, the jokes Bo could make.

"I'm sure you put a lot of thought into it."

"It was five minutes well spent."

"Is there anything you can't do?"

Tim gave Bo a nice full view of his teeth. "Nope. You could say I am perfection personified."

"If you're the ideal I think most people would prefer imperfection."

Tim put a hand to his non-beating heart. "You wound me, mate."

"I'm not your 'mate'." Bo sneered, brushing the bangs out of his eyes. They were getting far too long for his liking. He had a date with a pair of scissors when he got home. "Alright. Let's get back on task. You need to leave before I call the police."

"But I can't."

"And why the hell not?" Bo groaned. If only staking vampires wasn't illegal. This vampire could probably drive even the Pope crazy.

Tim laid his hands flat against the table, leaning back. "Bill ordered me to protect you until he came back."

Bo crossed his arms. "And when did you start listening to Bill? Aren't you under the service of Eric Northman?"

"As long as my maker gets cash it doesn't matter who I work for."

Bo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I don't have time for this. After my shift is over you, Mr. Compton, and I are going to have a long discussion about keeping out of other people's business, okay?"

"Over and out, Captain Stackhouse."

Bo's fangs were not going to retract anytime soon. His dual hungers made it nearly impossible, let alone his increasing frustration. Bo brought refills to Rose's table and then went to visit Sam.

"You okay, Bo? Are you coming down with a cold as well?"

"No, everything's good, sir." Bo mumbled. "I was wondering if I could take a five-minute break outside."

"Sure. Can you take the trash out with you?"

The so-called dhampir nodded and set off. He threw the garbage into the dumpster with one hand, the other still covering his lower face. Another rumble from his stomach reminded him of his present situation. Bo needed to eat something, anything, to tide him over until he got home. Bo gazed up into the night. Why did he keep thinking of Rose so much? They had only spoken a handful of times in the past three weeks or so. Sure, she was pretty, but there were loads of more gorgeous girls out there in the world. Not that he could entice any of them. Rose seemed so interested in him, though. Then why was she dating this mindless brute instead? It was yet another strike to Bo's ego. Like he needed any more.

The teenager breathed in and out. He followed the ten-second stress reliever his mom taught him long ago. Closing his eyes, he willed the protrusions to retreat back inside his gums. The extra teeth came up slower than usual, but eventually they went back into their proper place. Bo let out a sigh of relief.

A throaty roar brought him back to reality. All the hairs on his body stood up. There was a polar bear in the parking lot.

One single thought entered Bo's head.

What. The. Fuck.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Thank you for the reviews! A super thanks to my beta Wandersfar for putting up with my atrocious grammar.

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><p>Chapter 16<p>

There was a polar bear in Merlotte's parking lot. Confusion didn't even begin to describe what Bo felt. The bear stood up, all nine feet of him, bearing his teeth. Bo's blue eyes regarded the animal with surprise. What was a polar bear doing in Louisiana?

Before he could dodge the attack, the animal sunk its sharp teeth into his arm. He could hear his muscles being torn, the sound filling his ears. They both fell to the ground, the bear using Bo like a chew toy. Bo's arm was on fire; he had never felt such intense pain before. The bear's teeth scraped against his ulna. Bo could no longer remain silent.

He screamed, but with the white monster's paw pressed against his throat, it was hardly audible. His vision swam before him. The shock of being wrestled to the ground by an out of control Winnie the Pooh had taken its toll. The creature tightened its grip on Bo. It swung for his face with its other claw.

No normal human could launch a thousand-pound bear fifteen feet into the air. Thankfully, Bo was only half-human. He rolled away before the bear came back to earth, cradling his damaged limb. It was mangled to the extreme, and resembled swiss cheese. Flesh hung in clumps and blood oozed like there was no tomorrow. Every time he moved his fingers he was filled with blinding agony. No wonder he felt so dizzy.

The polar bear attacked again. This time, Bo was ready. He dodged another bite from its deadly jaws and punched it in the nose with his good arm. It flew back a couple feet, but not as far as Tim had. Something was wrong.

Bo had lost too much energy; his perception was skewed, he felt light-headed and cold. He didn't know how much longer he could last against the polar bear.

Why the fuck was there a polar bear in the parking lot anyway? Did it escape from a zoo? Bo's breathing was choppy. The thirst clung to his throat, growing more painful with each passing second. Bo needed blood. And soon.

Mr. Fuzzy rushed at him again. The third time, however, was not the charm. Bo couldn't turn away as a hand went through the bear's chest, grasping its still beating heart. Bo's stomach churned. Some of the blood had gotten on his shirt. A sickening thud echoed through the lot. Bo watched the light go out of the bear's eyes. He turned to look at his bloody savior.

Tim was more terrifying than Bo had ever seen him. The mess of blood and cartilage didn't appear to bother him in the slightest. It covered Tim's face and upper body like paint. His fangs were out in full force. He tossed around the bear's heart like it was a hacky sack.

Bo emptied his stomach contents onto the concrete. He gagged, harshly and deeply, until nothing else could be purged. The smell of acid and blood filled his nostrils. This must be a dream, Bo thought. Too bad it wasn't. The carnage was real. What scared Bo the most was his satisfaction in seeing the creature cold on the ground. It was not his proudest moment by any stretch.

Tim made his way over to Bo like Mr. Compton and the lady in pink did. Vampires had a way of carrying themselves. They each had their own style, but they were all predators.

"Eww," Tim said, disgusted by Bo's vomit.

"Eww? Eww!" Bo repeated in disbelief. He gestured to his mess and the dead bear. He couldn't believe the bloodsucker would say such a thing. "You think my throw up is grosser than pulling the beating heart out of a bear? Unbelievable."

"It's not as bad as it looks, you know."

"You just pulled out an organ from a living animal! You killed an endangered species!" He emphasized every word with his hands, nearly hysterical.

"Please, like shifters don't come in spades these days."

"Shifter?"

"Look."  
>Bo had never seen a shifter actually change. Now that he had, well, he couldn't exactly call it pretty. Especially when the creature was already dead. Bones bent while fur withered and shrank away into a humanoid shape. It lasted only seconds but that was enough. Bo was glad he didn't have anything else in his stomach.<p>

A man in his early thirties with the first signs of baldness lay on the lot. Naked as the day he was born, the man died with a surprised expression on his face, his mouth open for all to see. Flat, dead eyes stared out hauntingly. The hole where his heart had been was still gushing blood. It left Bo feeling helpless and weak.

That could have been Bo not so long ago, couldn't it? But Bo was a partial vampire, a dhampir, as Tim had called him. And Tim. Dear god, were all vampires like this? Were they all able to kill this easily, this quickly? Could Bo do this? Could he also kill animals, no, people like this? Was death really so unimportant to vampires? Tim barely even batted an eyelash at the carnage. Would he?

Bo felt a strange combination of fascination and repulsion. It did not leave a nice taste in his mouth. Deep down, he knew he could kill like this, take people down like flies. To have such a power, to wield it so easily, frightened him to the fullest. Would he turn into a murderer? Was he not already an accomplice to murder now?

Bo wished he was a religious man. Perhaps then he might have an answer or a way to get rid of the guilt he was experiencing. They would need to call the police, wouldn't they? Somehow, a dead guy with his heart pulled out of his chest didn't seem very murderer-like. Bo doubted the police would believe the vampire and the live human were the victims. There was only one other choice. But what were they going to do with the body? Who was going to take care of the blood?

"We need to clean this up, now." Bo commanded. No body meant no evidence and no evidence meant no future problems.

Tim simply lifted an eyebrow."What? Why?"

"We just killed someone. I don't know about you, but I'm sort of freaking out right now." The younger teen lamented, the taste of stomach acid still in his mouth. A mantra of Oh god, oh god, oh god, repeated continuously inside his brain.

"So?"

"My boss could come out here any second. We have to hide the body."

"And who's going to do that?" Tim asked.

Bo controlled the urge to knock him upside the head. "Who do you think, Sherlock?"

Tim looked around, then pointed to himself. "Me? Why should I do that? I saved your life."

"And you nearly ended it three weeks ago. No, you killed the guy. You bury him."

Tim moaned pathetically. "But I don't wanna…"

The other teen glared. This night was not going to end with Bo picking up all the pieces alone. "Fuck you. You dug your own grave. It's time you lie in it."

"This is so unfair." Tim groaned like a valley girl.

"No, what is unfair is I'm about to bleed to death. Hide the body before anybody else sees it."

"Where do you want me to hide it?"

Oh Jesus Christ. No wonder his maker bailed on taking care of him. "Somewhere no one will look, got it? Damn it, this doesn't look like it's going to heal anytime soon."

"Yeah, you might wanna get that checked out by a doctor."

"No shit." Bo growled. "Hey, I'm only being nice."

Bo flashed him the finger with his good arm. Tim lifted the body as easily as one would a feather. Red drained out of the corpse like a river. The weather station predicted rain for the night, so hopefully most of the evidence would be washed away. Merlotte's didn't need a puddle of blood around. That would be bad for business.

Bo didn't even say goodbye to Tim when he vanished from sight. He could barely even stand as it was. He slumped against the wall, utterly exhausted. He needed food. He needed blood. But what Bo wanted most of all was his mom.

She would know what to do in a situation like this. She could do anything. PTA meetings, a full time job, and a son to raise — none of it fazed her. She was the one who did everything for him. She was the one who was always there, be it elementary school musicals, parent-teacher conferences, you name it. Sookie Stackhouse was a woman to be reckoned with. And now? Bo was more lost than ever.

It was all in self-defense, but that didn't make Bo feel any better. He helped facilitate a murder. No matter how many excuses he made, the knowledge of the night's events would be with him forever.

"What the hell is going on out here? Bo?" Mr. Merlotte's hair framed his face like a halo. Bo used his good hand to wave. It was obvious Mr. Merlotte had caught onto the scent of iron in the air, because he immediately paled.

"Hey, Mr. Merlotte. You think we could call a doctor? My arm got sort of trashed." Bo staggered to the left. Mr. Merlotte caught him before he tipped over.  
>Mr. Merlotte was at a loss for words. Finally, he said, "Holy—what happened? What did this to you?"<p>

Bo pondered his response. No one would believe there had been a polar bear in the Louisiana backwoods. "A dog. A big, mean dog."

Mr. Merlotte sniffed the air, his eyes narrowing. He went silent for a second, and then herded Bo back into the restaurant. "Let's get you inside. It might come back."

"No, the vampire killed it."

"The vampire? You mean the one who was in the bar tonight?" They entered his office. Mr. Merlotte sat Bo in one of the chairs, careful not to hit his injured arm.

Bo yawned. He was going loopy. "Yep. Hey, Mr. Merlotte?"

"Bo, you need to conserve your energy. Let me get you a towel." The shifter was about to reach for his desk, when Bo interrupted him.

"Why do vampires exist?" It was an odd question, but lately it had haunted his mind. Because truly, what good was a creature that could rip out organs in a world already teeming with violence? Was their presence simply a cruel joke on God's part? And why was Bo even here to begin with?

Mr. Merlotte paused. There was a tension in the air that hadn't been there earlier. Maybe Bo shouldn't have said anything. He barely knew Mr. Merlotte. The question was likely too personal for a boss-worker relationship.

The older man let out a deep breath. A dark shadow fell over his eyes. "I don't know Bo. I honestly couldn't tell you."

Bo nodded. "I thought you might say something like that."


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

**Sorry for not updating sooner. I've been fairly busy with school. A huge thanks to my beta Wandersfar for editing this large chapter. Hope you enjoy.**

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><p>Chapter 17<p>

The smell of sterile cleaning products and blood was overwhelming. Bo struggled to keep his darker appetite under control. The closest hospital in the area was Renard Parish Hospital, a mid-sized place with a hundred or so doctors and nurses. Everything was white: the walls, the outfits, the floors.

The drive to the hospital was smooth thanks to his employer, Mr. Merlotte. Bo must have dozed off in the vehicle because the trip felt like it took only a minute or two. They exited the car slowly, Mr. Merlotte acting as his support. The open air and healing were taking a toll on Bo's arm, bringing stinging tears to his eyes. The bone must have been broken, because it was a pain in the ass to heal. Some injuries took longer than others; factors like blood consumption contributed to that. Considering he had neither eaten food nor satisfied his thirst that day, the results were less than stellar.

Bo eyed the nurse's jugular in the clinic. Like most people without healthcare, Bo would have to wait. If they went through the ER, it would have cost Bo another arm. Thankfully the teen had some money from his mother's life insurance. It was one of her last gifts to him. Bo was trying not to squander it, but from the looks of things it wasn't going to last for long. The hospital bill was yet another problem added to his list of things to pay off. Mr. Compton cleared away some of the things he needed to do with the house, but there was still a lot to fix and replace there, too. It might take months to get the house in full working order. Maybe even years.

The waiting room was crowded like in any other hospital. A few of the patients were children, but the majority were far older. Bo was the only teenager in the room. In a room full of injuries, many of the humans had open wounds which only made him more agitated. Bo felt like he could snap at any moment.

He concentrated on one woman in a corner. She had a head wound, probably from a drunken night on the town. She was young, pretty even. The coppery scent emanating from her sent shivers down his spine. His eyes fluttered shut. He really needed a drink.

"Bernard Stackhouse?" A nurse said, clipboard in hand.

"Yes!" The half-human nearly jumped from his chair. Mr. Merlotte was the only one keeping him down.

"The doctor will see you now."

The examination room was small and cramped. Other than cabinets and drawers, the only items in the room were a bench, a few chairs, and a sink. Posters popped out against the ivory walls, however the images were hazy and kept moving. His body was out of fuel. He could barely move as it was.

"Bo, I'm going to call your uncle and let him know what happened. You gonna be okay by yourself?"

The boy nodded. He slid into a seat by the sink. His arm ached, but the pain had lessened, which was a good thing. The older man exited the room. When he was finally out of hearing distance, Bo rose. He needed to drink. Now.

Hospitals didn't have the best food, but they did have a variety of blood transfusions, synthetic and real alike. Bo snuck out quietly, his eyes as wide and erratic as an owl's. His limits were being stretched far more than they had ever been. He shadowed two or three nurses, no one appearing to notice him.

He scanned frantically for something to drink. There. An open cart with two blood bags, waiting to be transferred. Bo's quick fingers made themselves useful. He snatched up a synthetic A negative. He was slightly disappointed it wasn't the real deal (he healed faster with the actual stuff), but he gulped it down in a bathroom stall nevertheless. Bo tossed the bag into the trash before washing his face and hands. The water stung his wounds, but the injury to his arm had finally stopped bleeding. It was crusted over and gnarly. Gross, but not as life threatening as earlier. Bo stopped by a water fountain to clear his mouth. He didn't want Mr. Merlotte to find out about his little trip.

When Bo got back, the doctor and Mr. Merlotte were present.

"Where were you?" Mr. Merlotte asked, concern and agitation written across his features.

"I had to use the restroom." Which in fact was partially true.

"I take it you are Mr. Stackhouse." The doctor said, his voice deep and baritone. "Please, have a seat."

Doctor Wilikanis, as he introduced himself, was a large, pot-bellied man in his late- to mid-fifties. His scalp was still covered by a blanket of dark robust hair, but his features were not nearly as youthful. He wore standard hospital garb with the exception of some killer sneakers. Bo didn't know what brand they were but they sure as hell weren't the standard Buy'em-off-the-rack sort. They probably cost more than he made in two weeks at Merlotte's.

The physician's gloves lightly touched his injured arm. Bo cringed when he pushed into a deep gash. In the light of the office, the wound appeared far less devastating than back in Merlotte's parking lot. The jagged teeth marks and stretched skin were already closing up. Most of the bleeding had stopped. Other than some slight pus and inflammation, his flesh was growing back quite nicely.

Dr. Wilikanis threw away his gloves. "The wound doesn't seem to be infected. How many days has it been since you were injured?"

"It happened tonight." Mr. Merlotte said, confused.

"Really? Then it's healing rather quickly. The scar tissue is already covering the outer edges of the wound. I'd say it'll probably heal up in about two to three weeks."

"That's impossible. It couldn't be that quick." Mr. Merlotte shook his head, sending Bo an unreadable glance.

"Mr. Stackhouse, could you please move your fingers."

Bo wiggled the digits in his left hand.

"I meant the other arm."

"Oh." Bo blushed, embarrassed.

"The tendons don't appear to be damaged. You'll need some stitches, some antibiotics, and a proper dressing, but it looks like it should close up fine. It might not even scar."

"That's great!" Bo smiled.

Mr. Wilikanis left soon afterward. The shifter kept his gaze on the young man, a tense expression covering his visage. Perhaps things weren't so great.

"You sure it was a dog that bit you?" Mr. Merlotte said, his voice level.

The teen looked down at his feet. "Of course..."

"You know of anybody who might have a grudge against you? Someone you might've pissed off in the past?"

"What are you implying?"

"There's something you're not telling me. Not even people with Were blood heal this fast."

"I've told you, I'm as much in the dark about this as you are. Maybe the dog escaped from the pound or someone's backyard."

The older man didn't look convinced in the slightest, but he backed away from the subject. "You're probably right. I need to get back to Merlotte's soon. I can stay with you until your uncle comes, if you'd like."

"No, please, get back to the bar. You drove me here, Mr. Merlotte. I can handle waiting until Uncle Jason picks me up."

"If you're sure... "

"Go. You've done a lot already. Thank you."

Uncle Jason arrived not too long after Mr. Merlotte had left. He was as white as a sheet. The lines on his forehead were more pronounced than ever. His uncle's eyes were red as well, as if he had been crying earlier. Bo threw him a meek smile. It only seemed to make things worse.

"Jesus—Ah man! What the hell happened? Why didn't you call me?"

"I didn't have time to."

"I'm so sorry. If I had been there, you wouldn't be in this mess. How bad—"

"The doctor said I needed a few stitches. I was only attacked by a dog, Uncle Jason. I will survive. Don't worry yourself."

"Somebody has to worry about you, Bo. You're just a kid."

"I'm not—"

"No, I want you to hear me out. Just... listen. Bo, you are seventeen years old. I can understand you like being independent, but you are still growing up. If you don't tell family how you're doing, what you're doing, especially when it's bad, we get worried. You have a family, Bo. I really wish you would have called me sooner."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's my fault. I, I wasn't the best of brothers to Sookie. I don't want to fail you, too."

"You haven't failed me."

"Not yet."

"Jason, you took me into your home, you helped me pack up mom's things, you let me cry on your shoulder at the funeral" Bo took a moment to compose himself, then continued, "Don't act like that's not important to me. You've done a lot. I really appreciate it."

"Just call me if something like this comes up again, okay? I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"I understand. I promise, I'll be careful." Bo said. Inwardly, however, he knew he could never follow such a vow. It hurt, lying to his uncle, but it wasn't the first time he had done so. Evidently, no matter what he did the teenager attracted danger from all sides. One dead body was enough to freak him out.

The murder changed Bo, and not in a way he liked. There was one thing on his mind: he was going to get answers. No matter what.

These thoughts and more ran through Bo's head. The drugs were making him feel sluggish and tired, so he drifted from time to time. The ride home didn't help either, his stomach doing flip-flops every time they hit a bump. His uncle was quiet for the majority of the drive. By the time Bo got home it was past midnight. Clouds obscured the sky, the moon and stars partially hidden from view. Bo settled onto the couch, cradling his ruined arm. Later, he made for the kitchen and feasted.

The phone rang. Bernard Stackhouse, accomplice to polar bear murder, finished the last piece of his toaster strudel. His nerves were fried. The grandfather clock in the living room reminded him of the late hour. He'd munched through a bag of doritos, two packs of red-vines and half a box of strawberry toaster strudel since he returned home. Four empty True Bloods sat on the kitchen table. Normally, he required a few scant bottles a month. This August, he already chugged nearly half of the crate Mr. Compton provided. Sooner or later, Bo would need more. Stress, late puberty, emotional trauma... there was no telling what provoked his growing thirst. It wasn't totally bizarre, he had always been thirstier around trying times or when he had that growth spurt in eighth grade.

What really bothered him was the lack of information. A dead mother, a vampire hitman, a polar bear shifter, Mr. Compton, and his heredity were all mysteries without a clear answer; it was almost too much to take in. It also sounded like the beginning to a cheesy mystery novel. He hadn't lived in Bon Temps for a month and already he was seriously considering hiking it back up to the Big Apple. Bo understood the rules of New York. You don't fuck with anybody and nobody fucks with you. Louisiana felt like a whole 'nother ballpark. Everything fucks with you here. Bo knew he was in some pretty deep shit, deeper than he had ever been in before. The middle school incident didn't even compare to watching someone's heart get ripped out. It was insane. Bo had seen it, participated even. He was the one who told Tim to hide the body.

Did he feel guilty? Yes, partially. The shifter wanted to kill him, yet he got no pleasure from watching him die. Bo was neither fully vampire nor fully human. The murder truly defined that for him. The mixture of repulsion and desire, the satisfaction of the shifter's untimely demise, the remorse of being a part of it — all these emotions were churning inside him. Bo never felt so in-between on something. There was a part of him that had wanted to kill the shifter himself, to drain the polar bear supe until not a single drop was left. There was also a part of him that was scared witless and wanted to run away.

Geez. He was thinking way too much on this subject. He needed a break, maybe a long weekend vacation somewhere. Bo ran his fingers through his newly trimmed bangs he cut in between eating. They weren't perfect, but they did the job. He could see better at least. Bo finally picked up the phone. He didn't even have to check the number to know who it was. "I called you over three times. Why didn't you answer?"

"I was at the hospital, Mr. Compton. Got one of my limbs nearly ripped off. Know anything about a werebear in Merlotte's parking lot?" Bo responded tartly.

A deep sigh. "Mr. Mallory informed me. I'm sorry about your arm. I should have been there." Mr. Compton said. "Unfortunately, I am unable to find any information on him at this time."

"Why not?" Bo asked curiously.

"You could say I am... incapacitated for the time being. No one is allowed to use electronics here. I am already putting myself at risk by using a telephone."

"Are you at that Vampire Conference thing?"

Silence. A long pause followed. Finally, Mr. Compton said. "Who told you that? Was it Mr. Mallory?"

"I learned it from a vampire at Fangtasia before you picked me up. Why aren't you allowed to use electronics?"

"The American Vampire League Conference is... well, it is a meeting of vampires from around the country. It is held once every five years. It takes place in a different location every time, since the organizers do not want any spies or other riffraff to attend. Usually treaties, laws, marriages, and important elections take place during a two-week-long event coordinated by the head of the division of that area."

"And what divisions are there?"

"I shouldn't even be telling you this."

"But you are, so please. Continue."

"As I have told you before, we have our own sort of government. It has changed over the years, but the general idea stays the same. In the United States there are four main divisions: the Whale, the Feather, the Thunderbolt, and the Eye. Under these divisions are kingdoms, usually one for each state." Mr. Compton explained.

"Kingdoms? As in, Kings and Queens?"

"Yes."

"What's with all the weird names for the divisions?"

"They represent old gods."

"What division does Louisiana fall under?"

"At the moment, we are once again Amun. It can change from time to time however. Especially in the old days."

"And who is the head of each of these divisions?"

"It is a secret. There is an elected board under the head of the divisions who carries out his or her commands. This is a relatively new concept. Before, divisions did not have heads, but we changed the system to keep our kings and queens in check."

"Okay. And why are you there?"

"I am the President of the Technological Development Branch."

"So, a computer nerd?" Bo supplied sarcastically. "Sorry, that was rude of me."

"Indeed." Stick-up-his-ass said. "Please, go on."

"As President, I am required to attend any and all meetings of great importance to our kind. This time however, I have run into a bit of a rough patch."

"What sort of rough patch?"

"I think you already know who."

Bo contemplated his words. Suddenly, it hit him. "No way, Eric Northman? Why? I thought he was Sheriff of Area Five? What is a 'Sheriff' anyway?"

"A Sheriff is someone who governs a territory and owes allegiance to the King or Queen of the State or States. Area Five covers much of Northern Louisiana." Mr. Compton sounded like a Wikipedia page. Hell, he probably knew more than Wikipedia since he was a vampire. Bo would have to ask him how old he really was one day.

"And that includes Bon Temps."

"Correct."

"Fuck." Misfortune followed Bo everywhere these days.

"Agreed. He has been quite troublesome."

"You don't like him?"

"He and I... we have a history. But what I say affects you as well. You know Elections are going on, I assume."

"Yeah, you told me earlier. Care to elaborate?"

"Our previous King has recently passed away. Eric has decided to take it upon himself to run for his position."

Bo took a moment to soak all this in. "So the Viking Sheriff wants to be a Viking King?"

"Eric is tied on votes with another Sheriff, but the outcome is in his favor. I fear if he is able to become King, then his powers will be too much for me to handle. I will have to do his bidding since I am a resident of his kingdom."

"That's not good. What can a vampire king do?"

"Too much."

"What's the deal with him and mom, then? What does he want with me exactly? He's... he's not..."

"Do you really want to know?"

Honestly, no. But it was a subject he needed to face. Neither contender was too appealing. They were both killers and had lived far longer than the average human. Neither was likely very human either. Between the two vampires it was like choosing which STD you'd prefer to have. "It's better to get it out of the way now rather than later." Bo admitted after some contemplation.

"It's true."

The teen knocked his head against the wall. So he was stuck with the Viking. Great. An image of a scarred bearded man with a cowboy hat and fangs greeted him. "Fuck. Just... just give me a moment, please." He'd had his suspicions, but the truth still hit him like a brick wall. His heart pounded in his ears. Eric Northman was his father. He would have rather had the polar bear. He shook off the shock and asked, "Does he know?"

"Not that I know of. We don't talk."

"Your history prevents you from that I take it? God, you guys are all teenage girls on the inside aren't you? Petty rivalries and all." Bo remarked dryly. "Never mind. I don't care if he's my father or not. That's not important right now. Is there any way we can delay this election thing? Or at least keep him off my back?"

"I have tried. He is a formidable opponent. Watch yourself until I get return."

"You say that like it's easy. How many times has someone tried to kill me this month?"

"Bernard... " It was rare anyone ever used his real name. It made him uncomfortable, like trying to fit into shoes too big for his feet. Bo liked his nickname better. It didn't carry the same weight. "Bo" was easy, simple, no strings attached. Bernard was a strange taste in his mouth, an adultness he wasn't ready for. On the cusp of adulthood, the name bothered him in more ways then one. Maybe when he turned eighteen he would officially change it.

"I know, I'll try." Bo sighed. "Have you received any information on mom's death? You promised to tell me, remember?"

"Indeed. Some of my associates found some unusual substances at your old apartment."

"Like what?"

"Magic wards. Sookie was very careful in her hiding. It wouldn't surprise me if her friend Amelia had helped her."

"Amelia? I met her at the funeral. Do you think—"

"That she was involved in your mother's mysterious disappearance? Yes, it is possible. I only found Sookie through technological means. Magic probably kept most things away from you two."

"So mom was trying to protect us? From what exactly?"

"Sookie had many enemies. Many vampire kings and queens would have liked to use her. Telepaths are rare, after all. Combined with your unusual heritage, it is reasonable that she wanted to find a safe place for you, away from the supernatural world."

"Yeah, the supernatural world isn't too friendly, is it?"

"The fact that you were raised outside of it probably lengthened your overall lifespan."

"In plain English, please?" Bo sighed.

"You are the only one of your species. No matter how strong her protectors were, you two would have been like beacons on a radar for anyone with a grudge or a good enough payoff. The fact that you have been attacked more than twice this month illustrates this."

"Good to know."

"There is something important you must—"

The line went dead. Darkness flooded the house. The electricity had gone out. Bo was about to reach for the front door, but stopped. Trees swayed in the summer wind. The curtains in the entrance way were open. Out in the pitch black of night, eyes stared back at him. Many, many eyes. He could hear their footsteps, almost as light as the air itself. Bo counted. One, two, three, four, five... he gave up counting. It was no use. His skin crawled with anticipation and raw fear. There were vampires outside.

He clambered to the backdoor. Two were watching by the shed. He ran to a window on the side of the house. Four were hiding behind the trees. Bo locked all the doors he came across. His heart rate skyrocketed. The terrified teen scratched his bandaged arm absentmindedly. He was trapped inside his own home.

Hurriedly, Bo shut the blinds in the living room then ran into the closest and hid. He curled up, wishing for it to be over. Bo had taken on Tim, but this? This was outside of his abilities. Were they here to kill him? What did they want?

His breathing hitched. Someone was walking up the front porch. Bo swore his heart was doing laps up and down his throat. He peeked, opening the closest door slightly. He could see an outline of someone behind one of the front room's windows, but little else. He could make out whispering, but he couldn't understand it. The beat of his heart and rapid breathing made it impossible for him to decipher.

Click, clack, click, clack. The doorbell rang. Bo stayed silent. For five agonizing minutes, he waited, hoping whatever god figure up in the sky would save his ass. Immediately following the five minute mark, a heavy object hit the wooden floor of his front porch.

They were gone. Moments later, the lights went back on. Shaking, Bo rose from the closest and made his way down the hall. He could no longer sense their presence in the immediate area. They had up and disappeared. His strength renewed, he opened the front door. A bat. An old softball bat. Bo fell to his knees. He'd lost it earlier at Fangtasia. A dark red envelope was attached to the middle of the bat. Hesitantly, he picked it up. Returning inside the house, Bo checked the name on the back.

Bernard Stackhouse.

The handwriting was swift, yet delicate. Calligraphy class had obviously paid off. Bo used his index finger to rip open the top. Inside lay a pristine white letter. He unfolded it and began to read.

_Dear Mr. Bernard Stackhouse,_

_It has come to my attention that you have caused a considerable amount of water damage in one of my facilities. My associate Pam has also lost an extremely expensive Chanel outfit as a result. For your benefit and ours, I think it would be best if you paid the amount enclosed in this letter. I expect you to respond no later than the end of this week._

_Eric Northman,_

_Sheriff of Area Five Future King of Louisiana_

_P.S. Do visit Fangtasia again sometime. I would so love to meet you. Provided, of course, you bring me my money as well._

Bo read the letter three times. Slowly, he undid the bill stapled to the back of the note. He sank onto the couch, his hands shaking. Bo put the letter back into the envelope; he was going to have to call Jason in the morning. As if his life could get any worse. The young dhampir sighed, fatigued.

He was in the market for a gun.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Sorry for the late update! I've been busy with life and a writer's block but thankfully I have the time to write again. A enormous thank you to my Beta Wandersfar. I'm glad people are enjoying the story so far. I hope all of you enjoy this chapter. It took awhile to write. Have a good weekend!

* * *

><p>Chapter 18<p>

Bo yawned. Even though it was only five in the afternoon he wanted to hit the hay. The murder and subsequent surprise vampire visit kept him up all night long. Nothing else occurred thankfully. When morning broke all Bo was rewarded with were dark bags and twitchiness. Mr. Compton never called back for some reason, a fact that was both troubling and a relief in some ways. He checked the exterior outlet, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The undead visitors had been polite enough not to completely cut off his electricity. They'd simply done it to scare him.

It took twice as long to get ready and washed as usual. He changed his bandage around mid-morning, scars rapidly covering the bite marks. Bo drank another True Blood then covered his skin in sunblock before walking out the door. His mind drifted elsewhere.

Eric was his father. The words still echoed in his mind. Bo wasn't sure what to feel exactly. He tried picturing the vampire, but all he could imagine was a giant with a beard down to the floor and some poor person's intestines wrapped around his bare hands. Bo was glad he took after his mother's side of the family; although looking like a carbon copy of some crazy guy's dead brother wasn't very appealing, either.

The Fangtasia woman left some messages on Bo's answering machine, none of which were pleasant. The messages ranged from passive-aggressive nonsense to threatening to use his brains as a sponge to clean her bathroom walls. Bo regretted ever visiting Fangtasia. All it had done was mess up his life even more.

The gun arrived by lunchtime. Its new home was between the shovel and baseball bat by the couch. He had not figured out where to put the weapons except someplace he could reach them easily. His uncle didn't ask too many questions, probably thinking Bo was still shaken from the "dog" attack. It saved a lot of explanations at least.

Bo passed the time by making a list. Borrowing a pen and pad from the bedroom, he set out his goals. It wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. His writing was decent enough, though slightly sloppy. He could hold a pencil now, but the muscles in the lower part of his arm were still sore. The boy numbered his objectives as neatly as he could, then proceeded to silently read it.

1. Find out who killed mom and why they are after me.

2. Figure out who the shifter was and what he wanted.

3. Go to the grocery store. (This was something Bo had been meaning to do today.)

4. Get more information from Mr. Compton regarding vampires. (Keeping away from all issues regarding the word "father")

5. Look for clues as to why Mr. Northman wants to kill me.

Bo felt pretty pleased with himself. At least he had something on paper now. The seventeen-year-old stuffed the pad back into the dresser where he found it.

Mr. Merlotte offered Bo the day off when he came to work at one, but Bo needed the money. He appreciated the generous offer nonetheless. His boss only let him handle small tasks since his arm was bandaged up. By now his arm felt far more mobile, but in order to keep up appearances Bo left it in the sling. He cleared tables and took simple orders from the daytime waitresses. Holly, a veteran at the bar, assigned him enough tasks to keep him busy but not enough to strain his damaged appendage.

Between taking out the trash (which was a lot harder to do with one hand) and going back inside, Bo found something quite unusual. A pair of shoes sat beside the garbage disposal. Upon picking them up a jolt of surprise went through him. The shifter had worn these. No sooner did he think that when he discovered the rest of the bear's human clothes: a standard, flimsy business suit. No wallet or ID could help him identify the supe, but there was a card.

Sleek and pitch black, the only thing printed on it were the words: "Cia's Fortune Telling."

Weird, but it was a clue. Bo stuffed it into his pocket. He would search for it online when he had the chance.

Not too long afterwards he sat on one of the bar stools, taking his well-deserved break. He reminisced on yesterday's events. Mr. Compton had given him a lot to swallow. To think, vampires had a secret government all this time. Well, perhaps it wasn't so surprising. They were long-lived after all. It was hard to grasp the fact that Louisiana had a king and that the newest one might be his greatest fan.

Quietly, the less than human teen sipped his lemonade. He finally finished unpacking all his stuff, but the house was as depressing-looking as ever. The living room and dining room were starting to come together, but the guest room looked like it was straight out of a horror film and the upstairs were barely touched. No, the home was far from presentable. He would have to visit a couple of stores. He was running out of supplies and in desperate need of a television.

Sometime soon, Bo would need to test out the whole dhampir thing, perhaps in a park or in the woods. His mom prevented him from using most of his strength in the past, but now? It might do him some good to get in a little training. Especially if his life was on the line. Bo wasn't typically a fighter. Now that someone had tried to kill him at his workplace however, he knew he had to step up. Whoever was after him knew where he worked, which brought him into a whole other layer of complexity and danger. They could strike anywhere, at anytime.

His working hand started shaking. Bringing it under the table, he struggled to keep his cool. Bo was falling more and more into the supernatural world than he cared to admit. Vampires, shifters, what was next? Fairies? Whoever was after him was not going to quit. That was obvious. Not to mention Mr. Northman was out for him as well. He was making his way to father of the year fairly quickly.

Could Mr. Northman have sent the polar bear, though? Not only was it not a very fatherly thing to do, but it didn't seem like his style. Tim would probably have known otherwise. There were too many unanswered questions. Who killed his mom? Why were they after him? What was Mr. Compton protecting him from? Bo would need to write up a list when he got home.

Customers were few and far between this Wednesday, Rose included. Caroline, her sister, was getting married next Saturday. From what Bo caught from others, it was going to be a huge event. The Bellefleurs were one of the most affluent families in Bon Temps and excitement was evident everywhere. He only saw Caroline come in once or twice. She was fairly pretty. Bo could definitely see the sibling resemblance. Mr. Bellefleur, their father, was exactly the opposite. The man was not a huge fan of Bo. He was a gruff, large man losing his battle against baldness. It was a futile war.

Emptying the rest of the glass in the kitchen, Bo headed back to cleaning tables. He had a lot of things on his list when his uncle finished work. They would need to drop by the nearest supermarket to pick up supplies to finish painting the guest room walls. Bo also needed more groceries. X-Mart wasn't the greatest super store, but it was cheap enough for his budget. His uncle used it often enough.

One of the napkins fell beneath the booth he was scrubbing down. Getting his arm out of the sling, he picked up the table with one hand while grabbing the fallen napkin with the other. Big mistake. Bo quickly put the table down. A loud thump resounded. Bo lifted his head.

Most people in the bar were busy doing their own thing. But not Mr. Merlotte. Bewilderment closely followed by concern flashed across Mr. Merlotte's face. Bo gulped. He cast a quick glance at his supposedly injured hand then rested it back in the sling. Bo could feel the intensity of Mr. Merlotte and a conversation nearing.

Sure enough, the shifter called him to his office five minutes before his uncle would pick him up.

Fear. Shame. Uncertainty. Was he going to lose his job? What would Mr. Merlotte do if he found out Bo was... what he was? His thoughts ran further afield. How would his uncle deal with the truth? Would he kick him out of the house? Bo clenched his hands into fists. Calm down, he thought. Whatever he was about to face would not put his secret in jeopardy.

"How's your arm, Bo?" Mr. Merlotte's expression spoke words Bo would rather avoid.

Too late. Bo nestled into the doorway. "I can explain."

The shifter crossed his arms, spine upright and tense. "Please do."

"Well," The teen backpedaled. "Actually, I can't really tell you, Mr. Merlotte. Not yet anyway." The dhampir stuttered.

"You don't trust me?"

"No! Sorry, it's just..." He hesitated. "I'm not allowed to say anything." Bo responded carefully.

"Why not?"

"It's sort of personal. I don't want to lose my job here. I like Merlotte's." The teen confessed. He rubbed his damaged arm. "I know, it's a stupid reason, but it's the only one I've got."

Mr. Merlotte massaged his temples. "Bo, what are you talking about? Whatever you're about to say, it's not going to cost you your job."

The boy pulled at his shirt, cold sweat clinging to it. Blood rushed to his head, making him dizzy. "I can't tell you everything."

"Then let's start with something you can tell me. How did your arm heal so fast?"

Bo sighed. Stalling would get him nowhere. "You remember what you said, the first night I started working here?"

"Yes? Does that meanΓÇö"

The younger man interrupted him. "I'm not part Were, or part shifter. You saw last night I can heal faster than most people. Really fast."

"Are you a fairy?" Mr. Merlotte asked.

Bo cocked his head to the side. "A what?" Where did that come from? "Dude, I'm straight."

Mr. Merlotte shook his head. "No, not that. I mean an actual fairy."

"Wait a minute. You mean fairies exist, too?" Bo moaned, dismayed. "Fuck. What else do I have to deal with?"

"Most supernatural creatures exist in this world, believe it or not. Ghosts, fairies, elves, demons, witchesΓÇö"

"The Loch Ness Monster?"

"No." Mr. Merlotte stated flatly.

"Darn."

"If your father isn't one of the fae, then what is he?"

Bo's uncle honked his horn. Talk about being saved in the nick of time.

"I'll tell you at a later date." The dhampir remarked, turning toward the entrance. "I have to go."

"We're not finished, Bo."

Bo stopped at the doorway. He set his gaze on the other man. "Mr. Merlotte, I want you to understand that I respect you a lot. You gave me a job when I first arrived. You brought me to the hospital and stayed with me until the doctor came. I really like you. At the moment though, I just can't tell you. Heck, I'm still confused myself, and scared as hell to boot. So please, one day I will speak to you about it, but not right now. Okay?"

"I will hold you to that, Bo." Mr. Merlotte sighed. There was still curiosity and tension between them, but the battle over Bo's parentage would keep for another day.

Bo smiled. "Thanks."

Shopping around in a supermarket was second nature to Bo. Uncle Jason floated over to the electronics section while he descended upon the groceries. Bo followed his list, throwing in whatever looked edible. Chips, cookies, strudel, hotdogs: Bo was a junk food man. He enjoyed fruits and vegetables as well, unless you counted Brussels sprouts. Nothing tasted more disgusting.

Bo smoothed down his hair, perspiration dripping along his back. You could probably cook eggs on the side of the road. The forecast predicted cooler temperatures for the following week, however that did little to ease his Save-A-Bunch's air conditioning had malfunctioned, or so it said on the sign out front. Instead of the nice breeze Bo was accustomed to, stuffiness filled the building. Not enough to damage any produce, but nevertheless it bothered him.

Bo swooped into aisle five. He was nearing the television section of the supermarket. The store felt rather disorganized, its products aligned in unusual ways. This aisle contained a series of mountain bikes Bo would love to ride if his pockets weren't so dangerously low. Fixing up houses cost a lot more money than he ever thought possible. Replacing the gutters and electrical wiring in half the house ripped a fair-sized chunk in his savings. He wasn't even going to think about the hospital bills he would be paying soon.

He rounded the corner. Something sticky caught the wheel of his cart. Bo tried pulling it back, but the material stuck like glue. Finally, he bent to have a look.

The face of a burned corpse greeted him.

For the second time in a week, Bo emptied his stomach contents.

It wasn't long before others discovered the body. A woman damn near fainted when she came upon the scene. Time slipped by quickly. Bo barely registered his uncle shaking him. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he fell back into rhythm with the rest of the world.

Being interrogated by the Bon Temps Police Department was not fun. Unlike TV police shows, Bon Temps did not have a hot blonde officer or a team of criminal investigators. No, only a small group of frumpy men and women were at the crime scene, and Bo was their primary suspect. Worst of all, Bo came face to face with Rose's father. The man did not disguise his dislike for Bernard Stackhouse.

The corpse lay before them in a crumpled mess. Most of the body was charred black and flaky, as though someone had taken a flamethrower to it. The police team checked to see if the corpse belonged to one of the undead, but no fangs were present on the body. It was human. The teen could barely stomach looking at it for more than a few moments. After finding his mother in the same state, too many bad memories were making their way into his thought process. Bo sat down in the opposite aisle. Fingers massaging his temples, he tried to keep up with the conversation they were having.

Sheriff Andy Bellefleur's gruff appearance matched his equally unpleasant demeanor. Aging had not been kind to the man; gravity was not his friend. A small pot belly was partially covered by his police uniform, but not enough to escape notice. The police officer had only an inch over Bo, but he made sure to emphasize his height advantage. A cigarette hung from Andy's mouth. Hawk-like eyes searched Bo's face.

"Do you have any idea who the culprit might be?

Sookie's son lifted an eyebrow. The man asked Bo multiple variations of the same question for over thirty minutes. To say it was getting old would be an understatement. Bo understood the department had its procedures, but this was getting ridiculous.

"No. As I've told you many times, Officer Bellefleur, I don't know. One minute I was pushing my cart around the corner and the next I found a burned corpse."

"Isn't it a bit suspicious that you were the one to find it?

Bo frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sheriff Andy looked him square in the eyes. There sat an expression he almost knew by heart. "Didn't your mother die the same way?"

"Don't you dare bring my mother into this, Sheriff." Bo remarked coldly. His anger was rising with the utmost haste. Bringing his mother into an argument was just asking for trouble, especially since her death was so recent. "Check the video cameras."

Bon Temps' greatest detective grumbled and replied, "Unfortunately, the videos seem to have been misplaced."

Surprise struck Bo. He crossed his arms. "Someone stole them?"

"It is under investigation. You shouldn't even be saying anything since you're our prime suspect."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Who was it that found the body?"

"Why would I kill someone and then report it to the police? Wouldn't that be a tad counterproductive?"

"Doesn't matter. We're still taking you down to the station for questioning."

"What about my rights? I demand to see my lawyer."

"I've already called him, Bo." His uncle remarked, stepping onto the crime scene.

Sheriff Andy murmured a few choice words. "Well until this lawyer shows up the kid has to come down to the station."

"That's unfair." Bo's eyebrows knit together.

"Tough luck."

The ride down to the station was tense. The seats in the back of the car smelled of puke, weed, and god knows what else. Beer cans and cigarette buds were scattered near his feet. It took everything inside him not to bang his head against the seat in front of him. Of all the ways to spend a Wednesday afternoon, Bo was stuck here. God his luck sucked.

The sheriff and teen conversed little. Neither enjoyed being there. Bo imagined kicking his ass back to douchebag-ville but the sheriff wasn't worth the effort. He just lay his head against the window and hoped it would all be over soon.

Bo closed his eyes. He reviewed the events in his mind, specifically the crispy corpse. After the disgust wore off, shock took its place. His mother had died the same way. A burned up corpse past recognition with no witnesses to the act? The hairs on his back stood up straight. It may be just a coincidence. Perhaps he was jumping ahead of himself. Whatever it was, this could mean...Bo's eyes snapped back open. His body went rigged.

_They_ were already here.

It was no secret Bernard Stackhouse had moved to his mother's hometown. The police team investigating his case, his neighbors, and the waiters at his mom's old workplace all knew that. A simple slip of the tongue might have just signed his death sentence. Bo resisted the urge to groan pathetically. Of all the things to happen.

Note to Self: buy some silver bullets and crucifixes, Bo thought. Would silver work on vampires? Or whatever he would be facing. He was still missing a lot of facts. He thought back to the list he made, but scuffed it. No matter what he wrote down it wouldn't save his ass. He needed answers, not a silly list of questions. Bernard Stackhouse would need to take action. And soon.

Someone wanted him dead.

Personally, Bo felt a bit miffed. Other than watering down a vampire bar, his crimes were relatively few. A couple of incidents in school, but nothing that would warrant an arrest. Well, if you didn't count the middle school incident.

Even today, Sarah Watt's fearful face appeared as clear as day. After all, one can never forget someone they almost killed.

Bo recalled the intermediate period they shared. She wore a red skirt with a white blouse that day. Auburn-haired and blue-eyed, she was his first crush. It was at the beginning of the school year. Bo's extra incisors had not come in on time. His mother worried about it, but other than buying some extra bottles of True Blood they didn't speak much of it. The teen could almost smell the sweet strawberry scent Sarah used to wash her hair with, even now. It was one of the first things that attracted him to her. Unfortunately, it nearly caused her demise as well.

How sadly ironic. He was supposed to have his first kiss, but instead he ended up with a mouthful of neck that day. They had moved to the janitor's closest on the third floor, a place rarely frequented by anyone other than some of the faculty. Bo recalled his heavy breathing, his heart jumping all over his chest. A flash, a pain, and a surge of hunger befell him midway through. The next thing he knew Sarah had fallen unconscious and his hands and face were covered with red. He did the only thing he could do.

He ran.

By the next morning, all Bo had heard was that she had transferred to another school. No referrals, no police, no nothing. It was almost surreal. Now that he knew Mr. Compton was involved however, the looming fear of arrest had subsided some. The guilt would never disappear though.

The car lurched to a stop. Bon Temps Police Station was pleasant enough, though far smaller than what he was used to seeing. The front hall was furnished with some plants and simple furniture. Walls painted with a light yellow matched the wooden flooring, though they were a bit worn for wear. His uncle followed the police car into the parking lot. At least there was someone Bo could rely on. Somewhat.

Bo checked the time on his phone. It was almost seven. The sun had set half an hour ago, his nightly instincts kicking in. Already an hour had passed. Where was his uncle? He burrowed into his seat, the wood straining his back.

Three men walked into the police station. A man in a pair of dark washed jeans and a silk shirt caught his attention. Bo blinked twice. It was hard to miss him. The man looked to be in his twenties, with braided hair that twisted down his back. He was tall, really tall, dwarfing every other man in the place. Sunglasses and a scarf covered most of his features. Honestly, he looked silly to Bo, but to the female eye he probably appeared like some model straight off a runway. Talk about lame. Of course, that could simply be jealously talking. The other two men flanked him on either side cautiously—his bodyguards, Bo assumed. There was something off about this group. Whatever it was, it made his senses tingle like crazy. The tall blond man barely paid him any heed, focusing instead on the lady at the front desk. He handed her a photo. Bo strained his neck to see. Thankfully, his acute hearing provided him with some help.

"Have you seen this man?" The tall blond had a European accent. "He has gone missing."

"If you want to file a missing person report stand in the line over there." She pointed.

One of the guards stepped forward. "How dare you. Master, don't let this hu-"

The taller man shrugged him off. "Dominic, shut up. I have had it up to here with your group's incompetence. I just got home and what do I find? More work and a furious Pam, not to mention me having to do everything around here since I arrived. Do you know how much money I spent this past week? My pockets are still hurting from that deal we made with Edgington."

"I'm sorry, sir." The other man, who looked like he could take down a rhino barehanded, stammered. "It won't happen again."

The lady behind the desk appeared uneasy. "Um, do you think you could take this outside? It's kind of disturbing the peace."

Silence passed between them all. There were only five people in the small room. The giant blond man leaned onto the desk, eyeing the woman. "You will shut up and do as you are told. Get me those sheets and present them to my associates as fast as you can. Understood?"

The woman's face went slack until the end of his sentence, tightening up like a stretched rubber band. "Y-yes, sir!" She rummaged through the drawers of the desk.

Not a moment too soon she ripped a document out from a pile on the far left and handed it to him. The leader passed it to his partners. "Make sure this is done before the night ends. I already feel humiliated enough coming here." He threw each of them a steely gaze. "Do not, ever, make me do this again. Is that clear?"

The two shook their heads, gazes at their boots. Whoever the Euro was, it was best to stay out of his way. Unfortunately, the man turned his attention to Bo.

"You, boy. You will not remember a single word of this conversation, will you?" The young dhampir felt a tingly sensation spreading across his skin. Bo nodded hastily. He knew when to grovel.

They left like a whirlwind. The teen relaxed slightly, the muscles in his back sore and whining. Whoever they were, they weren't people to be messed with. Geez, male models were the worst.

Other than the bizarre entrance of the blond man and his cronies, the police station was boring for the rest of the evening. Suspect or not the rest of the police department treated him rather well. The lady at the desk even got him some kool-aid. Having his uncle there had been a plus, but it left him with little to do other than twiddle his thumbs on a nearby bench. The young dhampir stretched his arms, trying to release some stress. Not totally effective, but it calmed his nerves enough that his hands stopped shaking. The dead body shocked his system in more ways than one. Bo was so absorbed in thought that he barely noticed a girl seating herself next to him. He didn't even need to lift his head to figure out who it was.

Clad in jean shorts and a white camisole, the Sheriff's daughter nudged him on the shoulder playfully. Her freckles appeared dark against the light material, the summer tan she sported all the more apparent. She watched him with bright eyes, their chocolate color contrasting with her now unusual hair color.

"Your hair..." Bo started.

"Yes?"

"Is blue." He gestured slowly, taking it all in. This was certainly an unexpected event.

"So you aren't colorblind. Good, I was beginning to suspect, you know, with your horrible fashion sense and all."

"Is there a reason your hair is blue?" The boy changed the subject back to the cerulean shade.

Rose caught a lock of her hair and twisted her ring finger around it. "Does it not look good on me?"

"Well no, it's just— Bo started.

The female in question interrupted him. "So you like it?"

Bo rolled his eyes. "It's, well, it's interesting." Suited her personality anyway.

"My friends suggested it. My dad flipped when he found out."

"No really? Who would have thought, with such a free thinking man like your father." Bo supplied casually.

"I take it you've met him?" Rose asked. Her trademark grin flashed.

Bo gestured to the entirety of the place. "Why do you think I'm here?"

"You couldn't stand to be apart from me?" She smirked. "Geez Bo, I didn't think you wanted me this badly."

"I got brought in here against my will. Why do you even care what I think? What about your boyfriend?"

The young journalist frowned. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Then why did you—"

"Can't a girl date who she pleases? This is the 21st Century. I can go out with whomever I want to." Rose commented plainly. "Besides, I didn't even set the date up. My sister did."

"Your sister?"

"She wants me to bring someone for her wedding. Daniel was a friend of a friend. You happy?"

"Oh." Was all Bo could say.

Rose huffed and flipped back her hair. "Now that I've had to explain that, why don't you tell me something about that little murder at our local supermarket, Mr. Stackhouse."

"I take it you heard?"

"Listening to police scanners has its perks."

"I found a dead body." He said quietly.

"Ew." The girl gave a look of disgust.

"It gets worse. The body was scorched. It, it reminded me of how my mom died."

"You mean—"

"That she died the same way? Yeah. And for some reason I don't think this was simply a coincidence."

"Well, that's not good. It's not the first occurrence though." She said offhandedly.

"What do you mean?"

"Last week there was another burned victim in Monroe. Do you think those two could be connected to your mom's murder?"

Bo closed his eyes. Things just got a whole lot more complicated. "They could be. I don't know. It still doesn't explain who is doing it and what they want with me." The young man had a few guesses as to why, but none of them fit in too well. There were puzzle pieces missing that Bo couldn't find through normal means.

"This could be the biggest scoop of the year for Bon Temps. Who knows, maybe even the entirety of Louisiana."

"And you want to be in on it, I take it?"

Rose crossed her legs. "You know me too well."

Bo remembered Mr. Compton's words. Getting a human involved could be dangerous. "I don't know. Maybe we should leave this up to the professionals. Someone with actual experience in this sort of thing."

"I doubt anyone smart enough to figure this out would come down to a place in the boondocks like Bon Temps."

"Good point. But there's the whole problem of not wanting to get killed." He made a slicing movement across his neck.

"As long as we're careful I'm sure we'll be okay. Besides, any one of us could die tomorrow. Isn't it better to find the killer before he makes his next move?"

"You really, really want to write an article on this, don't you?"

"Am I that obvious?" She smiled.

"Extremely. Do you, um, would you like to discuss this more over a movie or something?" Bo said quickly, stumbling over the end.

"Hmm... well, I'm free this Thursday." Rose stretched her legs and stood. "I better get going before dad catches me. He's kind of a hard ass on me for flirting with anything with a pair of balls."

"I'm not surprised. I'll tell him you said hello."

"Do it and I'll ring your neck, Stackhouse."

"See you Thursday. Tell the other Smurfs I said hello." Bo responded cheerfully, watching Rose exit through the main door. At the same time, the Sheirff chose to enter. What perfect timing.

"You gonna come quietly or am I gonna have to get the cuffs?" Mr. Bellefleur said.

Bo grinned, as though he had a dirty little secret only he knew about. "Ready when you are, Andy."

"Sheriff Bellefleur to you, boy."

Sheriff Andy swore the boy practically skipped into the next room.

Weird kid.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

**Thank you for the reviews! A huge thanks to my Beta Wandersfar for editing this chapter so quickly. Hope you enjoy. **

* * *

><p>Chapter 19<p>

"Well... that was an interesting experience." Rose commented offhandedly. Her sandals clicked with every step she took.

Evening had slowly descended upon them, the sky darkening by the second. Her barrettes swept away the blue strands of hair from her eyes, the dye at her roots already starting to come out after a few days.

"Hey, you were the one who picked the movie." The half-human pointed out.

Honestly, how good was a movie called "Aliens vs. Vampires" going to be? The actors were actual vampires, but the 'acting' left much to be desired. In spite of this, at least Bo hadn't offed himself at the end. Nearly, but thankfully the movie only lasted an hour and a half.

They were picked up and dropped off by one of Rose's friends, a ginger female whose name Bo couldn't recall. She wouldn't stop jabbering about him though even when he was sitting in the seat behind her. Apparently Bo was the talk of the town right now. The grapevine moved quickly in a place like Bon Temps.

Dumped by the mailbox near his home, the duo trekked up the road. The moon shined bright overhead; crickets, frogs, and other critters partied like it was St. Patrick's Day. With ears like Bo's, even the slightest noise within a few meters was easily discernible. And annoying. His hearing wasn't as sensitive as a regular vampire's or Were's, but he was still light-years ahead of normal people. Darkness blanketed the area like a curtain, leaving only the moon as their source of light. Rose stumbled over a root. Lightning fast hands lifted her back up.

"Thanks." Rose squinted, as though she was remembering something important. "You're pretty fast, aren't you?"

"It was nothing." He almost stuttered.

"You know, every time I see you, I get this feeling that I've forgotten something."

"So, when is your mom supposed to pick you up again?" Bo brushed off her comment hastily.

She blinked, then shrugged. "Sometime around twelve, I think. What time is it now?"

Bo checked the clock on his phone. "Oh, about a quarter to eight. You wanna order some pizza?"

"I'm more of a caviar and roast lamb person."

"Pepperoni it is."

They walked silently for awhile. Upon reaching the door Bo turned on the outside lights, their beams hitting only portions of the yard. They blinked on and off repeatedly. Bo called the nearest pizza parlor while Rose retrieved a glass of water. Waiting patiently on the porch, they began to talk again.

"How has your side of the investigation been going?" Rose started.

"Well enough."

"I'm guessing you found something?"

"Yeah, I found a card at the scene of a werebear attack." Bo answered. He had spent a good part of the last two days looking for clues. His mind wandered to the morning before.

Thursday was a lazy day compared to the rest of his week. Wednesday's episode had taken its toll on his senses. He'd finished most of the True Blood, leaving him with little else to drink. He wouldn't be thirsty for another week or so, but the thought of going into a store to buy a crate wasn't appealing. Everyone knew everybody in Bon Temps. After a morning of cleaning part of the house, the dhampir had cozied into the old couch, his laptop in hand. It was an older model; something his mom used for about five years before she gave it to Bo. The keys were worn and missing in some places, but it was still fully functional. Bo remembered brushing his fingers against the scratched up top. He hadn't used the thing since his mother died.

As it rebooted, the curious teen went into the bedroom. He picked up the pants he wore from yesterday, getting out the unusual card. Something told him it could be of use. Anyway it was his only lead. He returned to the living room.

Bo checked his email first and foremost. The majority of it was junk mail while other messages were from his friends. He replied to a few, then returned to his initial goal. Typing in "Cia's Fortune Telling" in the Google bar, he pressed enter and waited. Half a second later forty thousand matches popped up. Perfect. By the tenth page he had almost given up when he came upon a unique site. The hairs on his arms stood up.

It wasn't the website format that scared him, nor the information presented. No, the most terrifying thing to him was the logo, an image all too familiar. A large black C with red markings sat on the screen. Two animal silhouettes were attached to both sides, a large bird of some sort and a unicorn. To most the insignia would appear lame and uncreative. To Bo however, it was something he caught his mother with more than once.

He recalled seeing it first when he entered middle school. The Stackhouses had suffered a money shortage over the summer and his mother had started doing more odd jobs than usual. Sometimes she would leave for weeks at a time. Bo caught a glimpse of the insignia three times in his life. Once on a card she pulled out of her purse. The second time when she was on this very website. The third and most important had been on the day before her death, the bizarre symbol etched on her daily planner. He barely remembered it, but the memory was there. Somehow Cia's Fortune Telling was tied to his mother's death and the polar bear's appearance. A huge hunch told him that Cia's wasn't involved in this fortune telling business. No, it was likely far more darker.

The young male had closed the laptop by mid afternoon. It was a lead. Whoever this Cia group was, they didn't want Bo to live. But why? What did Bo do to piss them off?

Alright, so perhaps he didn't anger them in the beginning, but killing their shifter probably furthered that animosity. It was also likely that the same people were involved in the deaths of the people in town. But how did spontaneous combustion relate to an organization after his life? Things weren't adding up.

"Werebear attack?" Rose said in confusion. He blinked. The older teen suddenly came back to the present.

Bo shrugged. "Long story. To sum it up, I believe I have found a connection between it and my mom's death."

"And you think it could also lead us to the Bon Temps murders as well?"

"It's likely. There are too many coincidences in my opinion. Someone wants me out of the picture. I think," The boy furrowed his eyebrows. "I was supposed to be killed the same night mom was, but because I left early, I ruined their plans. Maybe these other murders are a way of putting the blame on me or getting my attention. Either way, these guys do not want me around."

"How do you suppose we fight against them then?"

"Beats me. I've got a softball bat and a rifle if anyone tries to break into my house."

"But why do they want you?"

The boy stopped. Should he tell her? Would she run away if she did? "It's personal. You wouldn't want to know."

"But I do. If you want to beat this thing you gotta have some help, Bo. You need to trust someone."

Bo let out a dry laugh. "It's hard to trust someone when you've only known them for a couple of weeks. Heck, I'm even wary of telling things to my uncle! I feel like I'm running blind with nothing to hold onto."

"Then let me be your flashlight." She said, a lopsided smile adorning her features.

"And what happens when you go out? What happens if—" He didn't finish the sentence; they both knew what he was implying. A heavy silence passed between them.

"Then you can stop by Wal-Mart to get some batteries for me." Rose joked. "I understand if you have some fears about trust and all these changes happening around you. I can sympathize. You have a big secret. I get it. But if it is a part of our investigation maybe it can lead us to figuring out what to do."

Bo stopped at the porch of his house. Rose planted her butt onto the third step. She threw him the puppy dog look, her lips sagging comically. The teenage bloodsucker glared.

"You really want to know?"

"I wouldn't be acting like this if I didn't." She bumped against him playfully, making him blush.

"Okay. Here's the story." He leaned against the wooden railing. "My mom, Sookie, well, she left town because of me. She wanted to protect me."

"From what?"

"From getting killed."

"Why?"

"I..." He gulped. This was it. "I'm not entirely human Rose."

A pause. Bo started to sweat. His heart beat frantically inside his rib cage. After an eternity, she said. "Give me a second," she exhaled softly, "Okay, so then what are you? Part-Were?"

"No. Something else."

She rubbed her temples. "This conversation... It's reminding me of something, but I can't remember what."

"There's a reason for that." Bo confessed. Oh boy. Mr. Compton was going to kill him. "Your memories were wiped."

"What!" She shot up, disbelief and anger in her voice. "You mind-wiped me? How dare you, why—"

"It wasn't me." Bo waved his hands, trying to calm her. "I would never do that to someone."

"Then who?" Rose was still fairly agitated but she had reseated herself again.

"Someone... that's really nice." Bo hastily replied. Stupid, stupid, stupid, the teenager thought inwardly. If only there was a wall to bang his head against. "It was Mr. Compton who wiped your memory of me. Of what I am."

"Mr. Compton the vampire? Why would he do something like that?" Rose asked, then continued. "Wait a moment, so he knows what you are, too. And if you're not Were or human, then... but that's impossible."

"It is. Yet here I am."

"But you can walk in sunlight."

"When I'm wearing sunscreen. Otherwise, I get really bad sunburns."

"Can you fly?"

"Never tried." Nor did he want to. He wasn't afraid of heights per se, but the idea of floating hundreds of feet above the ground made his stomach churn.

"What about blood? Do you drink the real deal or the synthetic stuff?"

"I try to stick to True Blood most of the time. I'm trying to be as human as possible, really."

"Can you hypnotize people like Mr. Compton and other vampires? Or does it make it less potent if you are only half?"  
>"This wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting." Bo responded. "Well, no, scratch that. You were sort of like this the first time I met you. Are you like this with everyone?"<p>

She waved him off, excitement dancing across her catlike smile. "Yeah, but that doesn't really matter! You could be the biggest article of the century! A half-human, half-vampire is totally rad! How many of you guys are out there?"

"I'm the only one to my knowledge."

"But how is that possible? Aren't vampires infertile?"

"They should be. Mr. Compton thinks there is some scientific reason behind it I think. Honestly, I've just been going with the flow lately."

"And Mr. Compton is the guy that's guarding you because of your mom, right?"

"You remember?"

"Bits and pieces. It's slowly coming back now that I know what's happened." Rose hugged her ankles. "So, if your mom is the human one, then your dad is a vampire. And it's gotta be someone close to your mom so... Is it Mr. Compton?"

"No. It's someone different."

"Eric Northman?"

He nearly fell off the steps. He stared at her, open-mouthed. "How did you guess?"

She raised her hand. "Journalist here. I've done my research. Your mom had some pretty interesting flings in her life."

"Yeah, let's not talk about my mom's sex life, okay?" Bo remarked. Imagining anyone with his mom was simply disgusting. Sure, his mother had been beautiful, no doubt about it. Nonetheless, to think about the woman who birthed you having a romp in bed with a member of the opposite sex, well, it gave him the heebie-jeebies. He was about to go green with disgust from the unintentional image when he stilled. His pupils widened considerably.

"Rose, get behind me." Bo scanned the trees with suspicion.

"Why?"

He straightened his spine. "Please, just do it."

Wind filtered through the trees. Animal urine, mud, and something else intermixed inside his nostrils. It was faint, but close enough that Bernard Stackhouse could smell it. A familiar odor, but he couldn't place it. A few leaves fell from the conifer beside his house. The crickets and frogs had gone silent. A cool breeze fluttered across his jacket, sending a shiver up his back. He stood, transfixed at the open space, looking for whatever was out there. The teenager focused on the forest area that lay on the other side of the road. There! A blur swept past.

Bo moved with the speed he was born with. He wrestled the other to the ground, trying to subdue them. A hand went to his throat, choking him. The pissed off teen grabbed the other's arm and bit, hard.

"What the fuck!" The assailant yelled, his Australian accent piercing the air.

"Tim? What the hell are you doing here?" Bo asked, half scared to death. "What's with all the camouflage? Coming to kill me again?"

"You broke the skin, you bastard. Goddamn, it hurts." Tim moaned.

"Are you okay, Bo?" Rose called out. Fear and alarm were traced along her features. "Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine, Rose." He responded. "Which brings me back to my earlier question. Why are you here, Tim?"

"Mr. Compton said to get over here immediately. King Eric is back in town and he's looking for the guy who trashed one of his clubs."

"He is?" Bo said, alarms ringing. "Wait, king? So he was finally elected?"

"Yeah. Mr. Compton is on his way back, but his first flight was canceled. He called me in to make sure you would be safe."

"He doesn't think I can handle him alone?"

"Do you even think you could?"

Touché. "I'm not exactly going to let you into the house, though."

"Mr. Compton thought you might say that. He's letting me stay over at his place when the sun breaks."

"Wonderful." Bo moaned, getting off the undead Aussie.

"Who are you talking to, Bo?" Rose inquired from across the way. He returned to her side in seconds. She jumped.

"Jesus, frighten a girl why don't you." She gave him a once over. "You really are like them, aren't you?"

It wasn't a mean or condescending question, simply a curious one. The dhampir's shoulders arched, embarrassment filling him. He should have been more discreet. Tim appeared a moment later, spooking them both.

"Why good evening, fair maiden. To whom do I owe this wondrous meeting?" Tim said melodramatically. Bo rolled his eyes.

"I'm Rose. And you are?" She didn't act fazed at all.

"I'm—"

"He's Tim."

"Tim? Tim the vampire?" Rose nearly laughed, a chuckle dying in her throat. It was Tim's turn for an eyeroll.

"Do you have to make everything hard on me, Bo?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

Rose interrupted the two from their bitchfight. "Does anyone smell something burning?"

The one and a half vampires tasted the air. She was right. Something was on fire. Something wooden, from across the cemetery.

As if things weren't going to hell in a handbasket already.

It didn't matter whether they got there quickly or not. The Compton house was on fire. It was the first time the teen had seen the old building, the white exterior gradually engulfed by flames. Rose phoned 9-1-1, but the damage was already done. The roof would need to be replaced, that is, if the building would still be standing once the firefighters arrived. The trio stood several yards away, unsure of what to do next.

"Who did this?" Tim asked the most obvious question without an answer. Or was it?

"Tim, how did you find my house the first time? What was the address?"

"I was told it would be next to Bon Temps cemetery." The vampire arched a pierced brow. "Wait. You don't think that this might have been a mistake, do you?"

"That's exactly what I think." Bo affirmed, features sharp. "Someone has been out for me since the moment I got here. That's why they sent the Were after me. And now, they're doing everything they can to get rid of me."

"But why?" Rose clenched the straps of her backpack.

The half-human sighed. "Because of mom. This is just a guess, but I suspect mom's involvement in some fortune-telling business, if it was a fortune-telling business, might be the root of everything. They wanted me out of the picture since the day I found mom's body. Had I not gotten into a fight with mom that night, well, I don't think I'd be standing here with you two right now."

Tim searched the field cautiously. Body in a crouched position, the young vampire sniffed the ground, grimacing. "Bo, come over here for a sec."

Bo settled onto the grass with him. "What is it?"

"Can you smell that?"

"Smell what? Burnt wood?"

"Exactly. No gasoline. No matches. Someone did this unnaturally." Tim scratched his nose, a nervous tick beginning to develop in his right eye. "I think you have a witch on your tail."

"A witch? Those are real?" Rose said in disbelief. "Wicked. No pun intended."

"A witch can do this?" Bo asked, surprised. He recalled the woman Mr. Compton had mentioned, the lady at the funeral. What was her name again?

"Witches can do a lot of things, most of which aren't pleasant." Tim shuddered. "Mate, you've gotten yourself into some pretty deep shit. I'm almost tempted to turn tail and run. I actually would, except, you know, obligation and all."

"Thanks for the support, bud." Bo retorted sardonically. He turned to Rose. "You should probably call your mom."

"Already did."

"And maybe... It would probably be better if you left the investigation up to me, Rose."

She passed him an incredulous stare. "Are you trying to protect me, Mr. Knight-In-Shining-Armor? Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. It's cute, really, but I can handle myself just fine. I've been in fights before. Don't just count me out as a little princess."

"I'm not trying to treat you like a girl, Rose." Bo replied. "I'm concerned for your safety. I..." He swallowed, his throat dry. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I understand." The teen girl put her hands on her hips. "But that won't stop me from helping you with this."

Bo brushed the bangs from his eyes, "You're impossible. Think for one minute how dangerous—"

"Um, mates? I think we have another problem." Tim had paled considerably, his face barely hiding the discomfort he was feeling.

Bo threw his hands up in the air, turning his head to see what Tim was looking at. "Great. Now what?"

Most TV shows and books conveyed royalty riding in carriages or with fancy golden crowns adorning their heads. In this case, neither of which were true. Instead of a royal carriage, seven expensive cars had rolled in, each more impressive than the last. The cost of one alone would have covered an entire year's rent for a nice apartment in Manhattan. The red Lamborghini drove in first followed by a snotty pink Porsche and a midnight blue Corvette. The others were brands Bo didn't recognize but still would have loved to take for a spin. The red one called to him especially.

A familiar blonde stepped out of the pink Porsche and passed him a dark glare. She was as pretty as she was frightening, a combination the young man did not want to be entangled in. Her outfit was similar to her previous one, with varying pink shades adorning the edges of the ensemble.

Twenty vampires emptied out onto the paved street. Bo pushed Rose behind him. The last of the undead glided out of the first car gracefully; no one else appeared perturbed with the horned helmet on his cranium. Long blond hair pranced upon his shoulders and down his back. The undead man wore dark faded jeans with a Fangtasia t-shirt. The tall male scanned the grounds around him, slight annoyance gracing his face. Finally, his eyes rested on Bo's, with blue irises the teen had seen everyday in the mirror.

The Viking king crossed the grounds in but a few strides to reach the small group. His entourage followed suit. Bo held his place as well as he could, even though his legs were turning into jelly underneath him. The vampire looked exactly like he appeared in the gift shop poster at Fangtasia.

"You do know why I'm here today, yes?" His European accent spiked at the end of his sentence. "So I must ask, what have you done with my servant?"

Both Rose and Tim were conveniently behind their distressed friend, watching on with owlish eyes. Sweat erupted from his temples as the hairs on his arms shot up like they were on fire. He was in some truly deep shit now. Bo uttered the only thing he could muster.

"Huh?"


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Sorry for the late chapter. To clear some things up, this fanfic is after Deadlocked, so there may be spoilers for those of you who have not read the most recent book. I will update whenever I can. A huge thank you to Wandersfar for her patience with me and help in editing. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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><p>Chapter 20<p>

"Do you know where my servant is?" Mr. Northman asked, thinking the teen didn't hear him the first time. He scanned Bo from head to toe, expecting something. His Viking helmet sat unevenly on his head, the armor not completely snug against it. It was old, or painted to look so. Either way, the king was making a fashion statement. On a human it would have been comical. On the over six-foot vampire king it looked better than a top hat.

"What servant? Are you talking about the polar bear shifter?" The flames cast shadows across the boy's face, sharpening his features and movements. His legs shook silently, turning into jelly before him. "Or are you talking about Tim?" He gestured to the vampire behind him.

Tim glared back at Bo for blowing his cover.

Mr. Northman paused, confused. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

He beckoned the blonde female from Bo's early adventure at Fangtasia. "What is Mallery doing here? Wasn't he sent back to Australia?"

Their conversation would have been inaudible to human ears, but thankfully Bo was only half of that. The other vampire nodded slightly. "I did, too. How delightful of Bill not to inform us."

"Indeed." The Viking King remarked, then smiled. "This just makes the game more fun, don't you think, Pam?"

The woman named Pam rolled her eyes; her expression relayed partial exasperation, but little else. "I highly doubt Bill thinks of this as a 'game', Eric."

"True." He shrugged. "Do you think he's got something planned with the boy?"

"Eric, I just want my Chanel dress back. It's ruined and it smells disgusting. His head would be stuffed and hung over my fireplace if he wasn't Sookie's spawn."

"I doubt Sookie would've approved of that."

"I agree." Bo shakily remarked.

The two undead creatures appeared as startled as a vampire could Eric regained his composure first, curiosity and thoughtfulness emerging from his features. "How interesting. You aren't just a regular human. That's somewhat surprising. Then again, Sookie wasn't, either. Tell me, how was it you bypassed my bouncers? Magic? Was your father a fairy?"

"I... I got through on my own." Bo stuttered. "I didn't mean to damage your bar, I mean, it was more of a mission to talk with you. You were the one who sent Mallery to kill me, right?"

He frowned. "I didn't tell Mallery to do anything but man the gift shop. Pam, do you know what he's talking about?"

"I honestly haven't a clue. Perhaps he is trying to trick you, Eric."

"I'm not!" Bo nearly yelled, then immediately restrained himself. "I wouldn't do something like that. Tim, why don't you tell your side of the story?"

Tim looked like a fish in a net, nowhere to go. He gulped, stepping forward. "I... I was told to kill Sookie Stackhouse's son by one of your messengers, my King."

"I did no such thing." The Viking switched back to Pam. "Look into this when we get back. I thought you could handle dealing with this issue calmly."

"I would have, Eric, had someone not waterlogged Fangtasia." Murderous intent emanated from her being. Bo could feel the imaginary daggers prickling his skin.

"So who sent Tim after me in the first place?"

"That, we'll find out." He murmured something in a different language to the other vampire. Bo had very little knowledge of languages. He barely passed second year Spanish as it was.

"Will you be alright alone with them?" She asked.

"Doubt my abilities, Pam?" The older vampire joked. "I'm sure I'll be able to handle some kids."

She did another eye-roll. "I will report to you later this evening, Eric." The vampires split into two groups. The first group, led by Pam, returned to their cars and drove off while the second stayed to search the place. Most of them disappeared one by one into the forest, but two stayed behind presumably to wait for the fires to dissipate to begin their search.

The Viking stretched, his shirt lifting up almost playfully. A six-pack stared back at Bo, taunting him. The tall man moved suddenly, standing two inches from the younger man's face. Bo nearly jumped out of his skin.

"We should get somewhere safer." He commenced down the path in the direction of Bo's home. "Coming?"

"Why are we going to my house?" Bo said, catching up with him.

"We're going to have a nice little chat when Bill comes home. Since your house is the only thing not burning, I thought we would start there." He paused mid-march. The vampire let out an almost wistful smile. "It's crazy, really. I haven't been to her home in years. I cleaned it a few times in the past, hoping she would come back… There's something about you that's not adding up though. Your smell... it is very unusual."

The half-human teen paused, his hands fidgeting. "Care to explain?"

"There is no other scent than your mother's, which is odd. But interesting." He remarked. "I do love interesting things."

"I'm not that interesting." They had already covered a lot of ground, Tim walking ahead of them while Rose struggled to keep up from behind.

"Oh, I beg to differ." Eric grinned slyly. "There is something about you that I can't place. Something different. You barely pass for a regular human. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

He turned his head, throwing a glance at Bo. They traveled up the path, hitting tree branches along the way. "Sookie hid you for that reason, correct? I guessed as much. So, are you a telepath as well?"

"Nope. Not in the slightest."

Eric's eyes darkened. "Pity. You could have been more useful, then."

The King flicked a tree branch away from him. It broke in half instantaneously. The group were now in sight of the farmhouse. Tim kept Rose from going any further, which was a relief. With a vampire like Eric Northman, you didn't know what he would do. Surprisingly though, he didn't appear too threatening. Dangerous, of course, but every vampire the teen had encountered was some level of that. Still, caution was a must. The man was not like the mainstream vampires he had met (Mr. Compton and Tim) and those he had seen on TV. His walk was far more silent, like that of a wolf. He was in control of every movement he made and showed it proudly.

Bo swallowed down a wave of nausea. The smell of the fire drifted through the area, mixing with the newly applied paint and the damp soil. Bo swallowed; the soreness in his throat worsened. He licked the upper portion of his mouth, making sure the extra incisors wouldn't come down any time soon.

"So, if you're not a telepath, what are you?"

"That, Eric, would probably best be explained by me."

Mr. Compton stepped into the clearing. He was dressed in earthy browns that contrasted with his pallid skin. Like most of the vampires, he showed little emotion. Hands behind his back, he walked slowly into the clearing, careful not to provoke anything.

Bo watched the silent interaction between them. There was some bad mojo going on between them, if the tightened grip on his collar was any clue. What pushed Bo's mom to date these guys? Life, Bo had come to learn, was truly full of more surprises than he would like.

Somehow, they ended up in the living room, the teenagers squeezed onto the couch while the two older beings took the chairs opposite them. The Viking looked quite comical in the worn armchair, his body too large to accommodate it correctly. Surprisingly he didn't put his feet onto the table, something which Bo was thankful for. At least his father had some manners. Mr. Compton sat pensively in the chair near the corner, eyes glancing towards Bo every once and awhile. Most of the time however, they were on Mr. Northman.

What should he call his newfound parent? Mr. Northman, King Eric? "Father" or "Dad" was out of the question. He barely knew the man. Seated in the living room, the teen ran through a comparison between himself and his father.

Would the teen be as tall as the man before him? It was possible, though Bo carried more of a runner's build. Their coloring was fairly similar; his hair color only a shade darker. Bo's features more closely resembled his mother's, but the shape of his eyes and jawline were definitely not Stackhouse-like. Perhaps Bo would grow to have the wide chest and long legs of the older man, if he lived that long.

"Judas, my favorite little disciple. How goes life?" Eric started with a glimmer of humor in his eyes, matched only by his smirk. The man appeared rather lively and carefree at times, slightly tarnishing Bo's image of what a vampire should be like. Underneath that exterior, Bo reminded himself however, was something far deeper and darker.

"Not too well, unfortunately." The younger vampire motioned with his hand towards the place his house used to be. "As you have seen, it appears someone has burned down my home. Do you know anything about it?"

"If I had wanted to burn down your home I would have made sure you were inside it, Bill."

"Do not patronize me. I am a member of the council."

"And yet you live here in my state which, you must already know, is now my territory." Mr. Northman crossed his legs. He stretched, not caring about the rest of the people in the room. "Now, let's get onto business, shall we? Do tell, what exactly is Mr. Stackhouse over here? You are obviously in on it."

"I am." Mr. Compton started. "Though I highly doubt you would believe what I say."

The undead king laughed dryly. "I've lived more than a thousand years. I rarely get surprised."

"Bo, as you have already deduced, is not human."

He leaned onto his hand. "Go on."

"It's probably best if I show you." Mr. Compton gestured to the young male. "Bo, could you please show Eric your... ability?"

The teen opened his mouth; his fangs slid out instantaneously.

He was thirstier than he thought. Everyone in the room stared. Tim and Mr. Compton acknowledged it, while Rose gazed on in fascination. Eric's face was unreadable. Bo blushed, feeling embarrassed. He hated being the center of attention.

"This... Please explain, Bill." The Viking sounded confused, unsure of how to react. "He's not... No, that's ridiculous."

"He is."

"That's absurd. We can't."

"But apparently you could."

"Me?"

"Yes. It's not obvious, at least, not at first."

The room dropped ten degrees. The vampire lord sat frozen, eyes wide and thoughtful. His gaze went from Mr. Compton slowly, resting on Bo. He scanned the boy, taking in the small similarities they shared. A new emotion graced his face, a mixture between disbelief, curiosity, and a sort of sadness. "How?" His voice was deeper. "And why?"

"That I have yet to discover. A scientist friend of mine is working on it as we speak."

"But his smell isn't like mine."

"Amelia is good with disguising things. How do you think Sookie and the child were able to disappear so quickly, so efficiently?"

"Witches aren't that powerful."

"No, but if a fairy were involved..." Mr. Compton looked significantly at the King. "Even I was skeptical when I first found out. I thought they disappeared from this dimension a long time ago. His smell isn't completely human, but it isn't like anything else, either. He is a hybrid. There is no one else like him."

"He can hear you, you know." Bo piped in sarcastically. He turned to Eric. "Congratulations. You're a father." Sadly, no cigars were distributed to the group.

Mr. Northman hadn't moved his gaze away from him while Mr. Compton had talked, which bothered Bo. There was a newfound fascination in his eyes. It was more possessive than parental in his opinion. Standing up, he balanced himself with his right hand on top of the chair. "So he is Sookie's... and mine. This is a lot to take in. Why didn't she tell me? Did she not trust me to protect her?"

There was a twinge of hopelessness in his voice. "No, but she didn't exactly trust your servants. Or Fredya. It wasn't the best move in my opinion, but that was not up for me to decide."

Mr. Compton had ended up standing as well while he was talking, tucking his shirt back into his pants. Bo hadn't noticed earlier, but there was mud up to his knees and twigs in his hair. He wondered if the man ran all the way from Oklahoma. Hell, after this night, it wouldn't be completely unbelievable. "I understand if you would like to be alone for a moment."

"Thank you, Bill." Eric said, his manner still contemplative. "This is rather uncharacteristic of you."

"I'd rather not get into anymore arguments with you, Eric. This week has already been a strain on my psyche." Bill sighed, exhausted. "Tim. Rose. Please, follow me into the kitchen."

Rose's nose scrunched up, suspicion overcoming her fear. "How do you know my name?"

"I know many things, Miss Bellefleur."

"So you're just leaving me here. With him?" Bo said incredulously. "I thought you were supposed to protect me."

"I highly doubt Eric will be of any harm to you, Bernard. I partially suspected he didn't send Tim in the first place. It didn't seem like his style." Bill shrugged. His eyes traveled from the teen to the window, looking off into the night. "Fangtasia has a mole most likely. Someone connected to your mother's death, either directly, or indirectly."

"Gee, great. More mysteries for me." Bo brushed his fingers through his hair. "Do I get a mystery van and talking dog, too? Always wanted a dog." The apartment complex he lived in never allowed pets.

Mr. Compton rubbed his temples, the wrinkles in his brow ever more deeper. "You are so much cheekier than your mother."

"I try."

"That is not a good thing." Bill responded severely. "It just makes you more of a target."

Discomfort couldn't even begin to describe how Bo was feeling. With the other three in the kitchen and the vampire king of Louisiana staring him down like a piece of nice furniture, well, it was not the most pleasant of situations. Mr. Northman came forward, touching the young man's cheek. To some it might have been sentimental; the frightened dhampir simply stared on awkwardly. Picturing this man as his father was, well, difficult. It didn't help that he barely looked over thirty, and that was being generous. The undead man had hard, cold hands. Bo winced. Mr. Northman took no notice of it, or he simply ignored the movement.

"Where were you born?"

"You don't know?"

"I've been busy. You weren't exactly at the top of my list." The king remarked, a small smile reaching his lips. "But now, I would like to know. It's been a very long time since I've had children."

"I was born in the Bronx in the home of one of mom's friends, or at least that's what she told me." The teen started, "Mom and I stayed in a small apartment in Brooklyn for a long time. It was cozy, though a bit stifling in the summertime when the air conditioning went out, which was often."

"What did your mom do?"

"Waitressing. I helped out now and again." The king leaned forward, his interest apparent. "Where did she work?"

Bo twiddled his thumbs. "Usually at a small Brooklyn restaurant, or at a bar in Queens. She did a few odd jobs, too, when we needed some extra cash."

"I was in New York three years back. To think, we were so close to each other." The ancient man sighed. "Did Sookie ever remarry?"

"Remarry? Wait, she was married?" Bo's eyes widened. "Were you guys...?"

"Yes. For awhile at least."

Surprise, surprise. "You divorced?"

The large vampire shook his head, obviously not wanting to dive in further. "It's complicated."

"Everything's complicated these days."

"It doesn't have to be, you know."

Bo raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I could take care of you. You can live in my house, feed from my servants, go to school."

Bo's face went blank, analyzing the vampire's words, specifically the middle of them. He put his hands out in front of him, gesturing to the man to stop for a second. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute, feed from your servants? Ew, what?"

It was the vampire king's turn to frown. "You do not feed from humans? Not even from your lover?"

"What? No, that's wrong." The teen pushed the man's wandering palm away from his face. "And Rose is my friend, not my lover."

"Romantic troubles?" He suggested. "You could always glamour her."

"I'm not going to hypnotize the girl I like. She's my friend. I'm a human." At least partly.

"Yet you are also vampire."

"Yeah, and a lot of good that has done me. Thanks for the offer, but I'm not a killer." Bo remarked. "I consider myself closer to the human race. No offense."

Mr. Northman shook his head, frustration apparent on his face. "You don't embrace your vampiric tendencies? Ridiculous." He grabbed the teen by the chin, bringing him closer than Bo found comfortable. "I just can't accept that."

Bernard's anger flared. He enjoyed being independent these last few weeks. "Let go."

"No." It was like fighting a boulder, albeit with a six pack and a tight grip on his jaw. "You should come stay with me, at least until you can care for yourself." There was a softness not present earlier in his tone. Astonishment mixed with the fury churning in Bo.

"Excuse me? Where the hell were you these past few years? Listen: thanks for the whole giving sperm thing. I appreciate it. But this is where it stops. I barely know you and you think you can simply order me around like one of your thugs?"

"You are not one of my thugs." The undead ruler pointed out. "You're my son."

Bo groaned. The vampire smirked; the grin eerily similar to his own. To be on the receiving end of the familiar smile was not fun. "I just got over the fact that you aren't here to kill me, which I am thankful for. If anything I think we should take this as slowly as possible. I can't exactly think of you as my... dad, yet." The word sounded foreign to the tired teenager.

"But I am your father." Somehow the vampire had gotten onto the couch and blocked the teen from moving away. "It's my responsibility now to take care of you, to teach you our ways. Sookie would have wanted that."

"Don't put words into my mother's mouth." Bo retorted, harsher than he meant to. His mother was still a sore subject. "No wonder she left you."

Bo regretted his words the instant they fell out of his mouth. The king of Louisiana stiffened. The air in the room froze. Only Bo's pounding heart made a sound. Finally, Eric spoke.

"We weren't on the greatest terms at the time. I'm sorry for that. She was a beautiful, extraordinary woman, but outside things drove us apart. We weren't officially together when I last bedded Sookie, like many times before." The vampire released him. "It still bothers me that she never told me about you. I had a right to know."

Bo sighed, swallowing his pride. This was his father. It would be best to get along at least somewhat. Though he was wary of the undead king, Eric appeared to be expressing his true feelings. "I'm sorry I said that. Listen, thanks for not killing me on the spot. I don't know why mom didn't tell you. I do know that she raised me the best she could however. As one great philosopher once said, 'Shit happens.'"

Mr. Northman's face relaxed, replaced by a boisterous grin. "So, did she date?"

"I don't think so."

"Did she sleep with anyone else?"

"Dude, gross. That's my mom. I didn't ask her about that stuff." Bo said, disgusted at the mere notion. "No, I don't know. God, this is embarrassing."

The vampire king nodded, crossing his arms. "Good." He winked. "She would have never been satisfied with another man anyway, not after me."

Bo felt his nausea return in full force. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his father. "I think I'm going to be sick."

The older male stretched, ignoring the teenager's comment.

"We have to talk more later. I need some time by myself to digest all this. To think Sookie had been faithful, all these years... I need a night to contemplate some things."

He eyed the young male, the traits of Sookie more apparent under the lamplight. Her nose and face shape were the most obvious. The bone structure however, was still too adolescent to judge. Awkwardness and stockiness were abundant in the young male's frame, his large feet comical in comparison with the rest of his body. He would likely grow into a tall man, though to the King's size was a hit or miss, depending on genetics. The boy's shoulders had not yet filled out and baby fat remained around the edges of his face, giving him a boy-next-door appearance. Cute, but not handsome. Well, the boy had time to mature. If he didn't fuck up beforehand.

Eric Northman finished his examination. "You were unexpected. I suppose I shall meet with you tomorrow at sunset."

"What? You mean we have to talk again?"

"You push your vampiric side away too much. It's time you embraced it."

Bo sent the man a searching gaze. "And what if I don't want to?"

"Then it will push back." The sentence cut Bo deep, lodging itself into the corners of his mind.

The vampire lord grabbed his chin again, something the teen was really starting to dislike. He gazed down at Bo's face, inscribing the half-human's facial structure into his mind. "Do not forget what I have said."

"Yeah, fat chance of that."

"You really are annoying, aren't you?" The oldest thing in the room remarked, seriousness gone. "You remind me of my cousin, Baldi. He was a daring lad, a rebel."

"What happened to him?"

"My eldest brothers chopped off his balls, then fed them to my sister's goat."

Bo gaped, paling. "Really?"

Another wicked smile graced the man's lips, a beam that almost made him seem human. "No. I'm just fucking with you... my son." He paused for a moment. "My son. Strange. I have not used those words on someone for centuries. This has definitely been an interesting night."

Bo stood, unsure of what to do. There was a childish part of him that wanted to know more about the man, yet the older, more cautious portion had great reason to believe it was best to keep some distance between them. Mr. Northman was not a threat to Bo thankfully, nevertheless it left even more unanswered questions for the young Stackhouse. As someone who had lived the majority of his childhood without the man, while the idea of having a living father was nice, it was not without problems. Eric was the King of Vampires in Louisiana. That had weight. Their lives were completely different, not to mention their priorities. In all honesty Bo wasn't sure what to feel for the man. It would be something both of them would need to work on, if they put in the effort.

"Thank you for the entertainment." The Lord of the Bayou tipped his helmet slightly, in a gesture of farewell. The Louisianan king disappeared before the teen could even so much as blink. The only clues as to his departure were the open door and the muddy footprints he had left behind. Fuck. And Bo had just cleaned the floor, too.

Bernard Stackhouse collapsed into the cushions, the adrenaline rush dissolving in his system. He didn't know what to think about his newly crowned parent, whether he should be terrified, uncomfortable or both. It was like walking on broken glass, uncertainty surging in his mind like bees. It was too late to keep away from the king's spider-web. He was already entangled it.

"Well, that was fun." Mr. Compton remarked.

The trio reentered the living room; Rose had a pizza box in hand.

At least the night didn't end on a bad note.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Thank you so much for your reviews! A huge thanks to Wandersfar for cleaning up this chapter as well. I'll be in Québec for awhile so I don't know how much I'll be able to upload or write. Have a good week!

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><p>Chapter 21<p>

"You're scaring the customers." Bernard Stackhouse commented offhandedly.

It was Saturday night and Merlotte's was full of patrons; half of them were vampires, Eric's entourage he guessed. None of them appeared too friendly, though they did order TrueBloods every once in a while. He didn't think too much of it when Tim and Mr. Compton arrived. They were sort of living with him now, after all. He wasn't happy with the situation, but he owed Mr. Compton for explaining things to his supposed father. As for Tim, well, at least now he didn't have to worry about getting TrueBlood. Errand boy appeared to be the only thing he was good at.

"It's not my fault they can't handle," the blond monarch gestured to his body dramatically, "all of this." He winked at a table of college-age girls.

Bo could feel a migraine forming.

He couldn't be any more different from his father. Whereas Mr. Northman wore black jeans and a dark blue wife beater (sans Viking helmet, thankfully), Bernard was dressed in the restaurant's uniform, the white shirt stained with grease from helping out in the kitchen earlier. The vampire king of Louisiana braided his hair into an intricate design which, compared to Bo's sloppy hairdo, exaggerated their differences even further. Rest didn't come easy to the teen that night and it showed. Life just wasn't going his way lately.

Nor was the air conditioning, which apparently thought this night would be the best to stop working. Summer had yet to end in Bon Temps. Sweat clung to Bo's hands and face, making him look like he just ran a marathon. Hell, he felt like he just ran a marathon.

Bo rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Are you trying to make me lose my job, Mr. Northman?"

"Mr. Northman is too formal. Call me father."

"Yeah. Thanks. No." Bo said quickly. "How 'bout we simply stick to Eric for now. Does that work for you?"

The undead king looked displeased, but didn't press the matter. "Okay, my son."

"If you two are done flirting, I'd like to order." The Chanel queen in all her glory interrupted, irritation exuding from her pores. "Two TrueBloods, boy. O negative, no straws."

"Of course." He used that time to escape posthaste. Anything to have a breather.

It didn't matter where he moved; they could see everything from their seat in the middle of the room. The layout of undead and living were separated by an invisible line, the frightened humans close to the door, and Eric's entourage near the kitchen. Mr. Compton and Tim were perched in stools by the bar. The undead computer expert raised his hand, motioning Bo to come. Sighing, he dragged himself over.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. I've been working since noon and it's now nine. I haven't had a break since dinner." The supernatural teen grumbled. "I need a drink. Can you order me some beer?"

"You're too young." Mr. Compton frowned.

Bo huffed. "Mom let me drink."

Mr. Compton stared at him blankly. He lifted one of his dark eyebrows. "Oh, really? I specifically remember her telling me how you were grounded for almost a year when you tried to sneak home a Budweiser in middle school."

"I really, really dislike you." It sucked when the only person to keep in contact with his mom after she left knew so much about him. He pulled his shirt out of his pants. "I'm going on break."

"Not for another ten minutes," Mr. Merlotte chided him from behind the bar. He brought out the TrueBloods from the microwave. "Tuck your shirt back in and give these to our customers." He stared the teen down. "And after this shift you and I are going to have a talk."

"You and everyone else." Bo muttered, taking the drinks. "Can you get Sheriff Andy to stop glaring at me? He's been doing that all night."

"No one can stop Andy when he's in one of those moods. Whatever you did certainly got him into a fuss." Merlotte observed. "When you are done serving drinks I want you to clean the bathrooms."

Bo nodded absentmindedly. "Sure thing, Mr. Merlotte."

He handed out the orders as fast as he could, nearly spilling one or two along the way. A lack of available waitresses made for a difficult night. Holly was out for dinner with her children, Melody was at the movies with her boyfriend, and Janice had the flu; the list went on and on. It wasn't something he couldn't handle, but when there were only three waitresses and a busboy to serve for a full house, things easily got out of control.

The bathroom smelled of urine and vomit. A gaggle of frat-boys back from summer vacation probably did the deed. Bo got out the mop and bucket from the closet then filled up the bucket with water and soap. Alas, his mop barely touched the floor before a familiar woman entered.

"You may be Eric's son, but don't think for a second I will let you get away with ruining my favorite outfit." Pam remarked disdainfully.

He laid the mop against the wall. "Oh Jesus, not you." Bo moaned. "Can't you get another one?"

"It was limited edition."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Bo's shoulders slumped. "I'm poor. I can't exactly pay for it."

She scanned him over with zero enthusiasm. "You're right, you can't. But, you can do something else."

Dread sunk into his skin, drenching it with foreboding suspicion. "And what is that?"

"Eric has been… depressed, so to speak. Sookie's disappearance was a major blow. Now knowing she was alive for all these years, and only recently died has made him much more vulnerable than usual. He wants something substantial, something he can relate to her with."

"And that's me."

"Who else? She made him happy. You can make him happy. It's that simple."

"I don't think it works like that."

"I beg to differ. He has already bought two plane tickets to Sweden for Christmas. He grinned like a fool when he told me." Pam remarked, heels clicking against the floor as she drew closer.

"Holy shit." Bo's mouth formed the shape of an 'O'. "Wait, he didn't even ask me if I wanted to go or not."

"Oh, you will be going, there is no argument there. In fact, everything he has planned from here on out you will be doing."

"What about my rights?" He crossed his arms, goosebumps prickling his skin. Eric might be his father, but to plan in advance without telling him? Bo wanted to take things slowly. Despite everything that happened over the past month, this new relationship was possibly the most confusing. He'd never had a father. As a kid, sure, he wanted one, what child didn't? Presently however, the notion carried too many complexities he wasn't certain of how to deal with. Besides, Sweden was cold as hell in the winter.

Pam's expression didn't change in response to his question.

She flicked a speck of lint off his shoulder. "Your head would look rather lovely on my mantle."

"Okay. Hang out with Eric. Got it." The muscles in his legs were beginning to go stiff from fear and anxiety. Thankfully, his facial control did not fail him. "Is there anything else you want me to do, to make us even?"

"Ah yes, I almost forgot." She examined her nails. "My pool boy met an unfortunate end several weeks ago. He used to mow my lawn as well. You wouldn't mind giving up your Friday nights to do his job, would you? I didn't think so."

"You're such a bitch."

She smiled, fangs out. "I know."

He finished cleaning the bathroom and retreated to the staff room, body stiff and full of thoughts. His phone buzzed. It was Rose. The lovesick teen answered immediately.

"Hey, hi, hello. Um, wow, sorry about last night." He stammered.

"There's been another spontaneous combustion."

"Where?" Bo asked, alarmed. "What do you know?"

"It was one of the du Rone boys. He wasn't much older than us. I think he was a grade above me at school. Jesus Christ."

Bo held his head. He had met Tara, the mother, at the funeral. The boy likely attended as well. "This doesn't make any sense. Why is the killer attacking all these people? What do they have in common?"

"Well, Peter worked part-time at a magic shop in New Orleans, under the supervision of a woman named Amelia Broadway."

The name rang a bell in his mind. It was the name Mr. Compton mentioned not too long ago. Someone in connection to his mom. "What about the other victims? Did they have any ties to her?"

"The first victim was a part of a coven near Sherveport. The one you found had a sister who was a Wiccan, but that's all I've found out about him. I don't know if he was a practitioner or not."

"Where did you find all this info?"

"Dad's a cop, remember? I go through his files all the time."

"Why would a witch kill other witches? I thought she, or he, was after me?"

"Maybe we should call this Broadway lady. She's the owner of the shop and could possibly know the others."

"Do you have her number?"

"No… I was hoping we could visit her store, together." She mumbled the last bit into the phone. Bo's face flushed.

"Together?"

"Yeah, my mom is taking me to New Orleans tomorrow. She has a few errands to run. I'm sure she won't mind taking another passenger."

"Doesn't she hate me?"

"Only dad hates you. He thinks you're some freak and a menace to society."

"Well, he wasn't too far from the truth on the first one."

"Bo, you're not a freak. Don't beat yourself up about what you are. Honestly, it's kind of cool."

"Being part dead is cool? I have a near unquenchable thirst and I get terrible sunburns. How is that cool?"

"You've got super-strength, and you can run really fast."

"I guess," Bo sighed. "It doesn't change the fact that there are a lot of things I can't do on both sides. I wish I could have been born into a normal family."

"Don't say that. You wouldn't be who you are right now. I like the way you are. It makes you unique."

Bo's lips gently lifted upwards. "Thanks. That's nice of you to say."

"I mean it."

There was a knock at the door. He could tell from the scent Mr. Compton and Sam were outside. Great. "I've gotta go. I'll talk with you soon. Bye."

Sure enough, the two men were waiting patiently by the door frame. Mr. Merlotte's wrinkles were more prominent than usual. Bill looked the same as ever. It was apparent both of them were on the same page regarding Bo's special condition, if the caution and uncertainty on Mr. Merlotte's face was anything to go by.

"Half-vampire?"

"Half-human." Bo corrected, looking at Mr. Compton. "So are you just going to start telling everyone now? Because I can easily put a target sign on my back and get the deed done far more quickly."

"Don't be cheeky. Sam is a trustworthy individual. It's not as though Eric hasn't done the same."

His shoulders slumped. "I thought we were trying to keep me from getting killed?"

"We've changed tactics. It is better to have every supe know you exist than simply a select few and those who wish to do you harm. Sookie had her enemies, but her allies outnumbered them. It is, at the moment, the best course of action."

"So, who knows?"

"Right now it is only a few trusted groups in the State of Louisiana, including your Uncle's pack."

"Uncle Jason is a supe?" Bo said in surprise.

"He was bitten by a werepanther several years ago." Mr. Merlotte supplied.

Bo closed his eyes, processing this new information. His smell was only slightly better than a human's. Of course he wouldn't have noticed. "How did he take it?"

"He suspected something was different about you. I'm sure you'll hear from him on Monday. He has been off fishing with his buddies for the weekend." Mr. Merlotte changed the subject. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I didn't find out until a few weeks ago." Bo stepped back, pushing against the office chair. "I was also afraid you would fire me."

"I'm not gong to fire you, Bo. You're the most reliable busboy I have."

"I'm the only busboy you have." He said, a half-hearted grin emerging on his tired face. "And you're the best damn employer I've ever had, sir."

Mr. Merlotte smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. "If you need breaks to drink TrueBlood, tell me. I will not discriminate against my employees."

"Thank you, Mr. Merlotte. If you ever need anything, I'll be there. I promise."

"I wouldn't doubt it." The shifter's face became more serious. "Now, what's this about a murder?"

"A murder? Keeping secrets from me already?" The king of Louisiana walked into the room like he owned the place.

"Employees only." Mr. Merlotte said, his annoyance showing. "Can't you read?"

"I have the right to know everything that happens under my jurisdiction."

"Murders. It's plural." Bo mumbled. "Another person died today. Rose thinks a few other dead bodies might be linked in as well."

"A serial killer?" Mr. Compton said, contemplating the words. "Was it a vampire? A demon?"

"Everyone involved had something to do with magic." Bo sat down. "This is all happening so fast. I mean, witches? What is this, Harry Potter?"

"There are far scarier things than witches out there." Bill said ominously. The two other men in the room stared at him, their disapproval apparent. "What?"

Mr. Merlotte shook his head. "Don't go scaring the kid. Look, he's as pale as a—"

"Vampire?" Eric supplied, his eyebrows moving up and down comically.

Bernard slumped in his chair. This was a lot to take in. "People are getting killed because of me."

"Don't blame yourself, Bernard. No one had any idea this person would follow you all the way here to seek revenge." Mr. Compton remarked, his shoulders as heavy as the boy's. "I blame myself for not being there when I should have been."

"Bill. Please explain what all this has to do with my son." The king commanded, his expression somewhat heated. Being out of the loop was driving the vampire up the wall.

Mr. Compton explained in full detail, Bo joining the conversation several times to share the information he'd gathered. So far they knew a witch (or wizard, Bo wasn't entirely sure) was out to get him. A powerful one. Someone was supplying him or her with information. (Mr. Compton came up with that one. Cia's held no actual address and his contacts didn't know anything about it either.) In short, sooner or later someone was going to come for him, again. The shifter was a fluke; Bo had help. There would be another attack. It was only a matter of when and whether they could prevent it beforehand.

"It would be safer at my house. I don't want what happened to Sookie to happen to you." His father said after a second of deliberation post-convo. "I will take care of this."

"That's nice, Eric, but I'm not leaving my home. Mr. Compton and Tim can help me against any attacks. I'm not weak. I can fight." He wasn't Muhammad Ali by any stretch of the imagination, but he could still knock down grown men if he needed to. He fought like a New Yorker. There was nothing scarier than that.

"And what about in the daytime? What will you do then?"

"I'll fight." Bo stated, holding his ground against the man who helped give him life. "I have a shotgun."

The muscles in Eric's neck contracted. "Taking on witches isn't easy. You've never had any experience with them. We'll discuss it tomorrow, at my home."

"You can't just decide things for me like that. I'm an adult."

"No, you're seventeen. That gives me plenty of parental rights over you." The king stated. "We will discuss this later."

"I have the right to live in my own house. You're not my—" Bo shut his mouth, his cheeks burning.

Eric smirked. He waggled his eyebrows again. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Bo threw up his hands. Teenage hormones overruled his thoughts. "I'm going back to work!" He nearly slammed the door on his way out.

Mr. Compton rubbed his temples. In his mind, the boy was more than a piece of work; he was a catalyst of trouble. Sookie's stubborn streak and Eric's independence made for an irritating combination. He certainly had his life cut out for him. A thought arose. "Don't you have a coronation party tomorrow night? At your own house?"

Eric shrugged. "Shouldn't matter to you, Bill. You're not invited."

"So, you're putting the boy in a house full of vampires. I'm sure that will go well."

"I'm the king of Louisiana. I can handle it."

The owner of the establishment gave the two a deadpanned look. "Why are you two still here? Out. Both of you."

Mr. Merlotte and Bo had a beer after everyone left that night. They drank in sweet silence.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Bonjour! Trying to get chapters finished as fast as I can. I don't know a lot about palm readings so please bare with my shorthand summary of one in this chapter. It's supposed to be fairly unprofessional since Amelia isn't exactly the most professional witch in the Sookie Stackhouse series. A huge thanks as always to Wandersfar for editing my chapter and dealing with my writing mistakes. I'll be starting classes at Laval so I might not be able to write as much. I will try to update at least once a week however. Thank you for all the reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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><p>Chapter 22<p>

"You have fourteen new messages." His phone stated.

How the hell did he get his phone number?

Bo didn't even have to check to know who they were from. Eric was not subtle. Most of the messages were advice for someone younger than him. Apparently, two days and a cache of parenting books had made the King of New Orleans an expert on fatherhood. Bo wasn't certain whether he should be proud or creeped out by his newly appointed dad's interest in his life.

On the one hand, there was a tiny part of him that liked that the man didn't simply brush him off like some fathers would. Living in the dingier part of New York gave him insight into that sort of thing. Most of the children in his neighborhood had single mothers. On the other hand, some of the messages were far too personal. The worst message was the last, something about how to get a girl into bed. He deleted that voicemail immediately. Some things were better left unsaid.

It wasn't as if he didn't think about Rose in that way, like he imagined in his dreams. Those dreams usually made him out to be a lot more confident and muscular though. In reality, her soft lips and large chocolate eyes made his thoughts slow and uncoordinated. He wasn't sure how to act around girls, especially her. Should he ask her out again? Could he go to the next level with her?

Bo felt indecisive. What would happen if he went too far with her, like he did in middle school. Could he resist the temptation of blood if presented her pale, unblemished neck? He pushed the notion aside. Of course he could, Bo told himself. He was far closer to humanity than his father's species.

The teen adjusted his button-down shirt, a pale gray top he bought from the sales rack at Dillard's. Matched with a pair of blue jeans and some comfortable walking shoes, the outfit fit him rather nicely, he believed. Bo checked his breath again. Rose gave him an eyeroll.

New Orleans smelled like what Jazz music would be if it were a scent. An unusual mélange of gasoline, ocean salt, human sweat, and hearty meals full of spices filled every vicinity. It was completely different from New York, where everyone had somewhere to be. In the Big Easy, you had time to eat some gumbo on Bourbon street, people-watch, and you didn't feel pressured to do anything else. French architecture mixed with modern buildings of all shapes and sizes to produce an individuality Bo was unused to seeing.

Mrs. Bellefleur let them off at Frenchman Street, a touristy area, but still fun nevertheless. Most of the buildings here were one story, creole cottages from a time long before Bo existed. They were modest in their design, yet charming in their own right, with French style doors and brightly painted exteriors. Rose promised to call once she finished giving Bo a tour of the area while her mom was at a statewide teacher conference near St. Charles Avenue. In reality, the two teens were only going to one place.

It wasn't hard to find "Broadway Magic" — it was only two blocks away. Rose led the way. Bo had a feeling she knew about his lack of directional skills. New Orleans humidity licked the back of his neck as he walked, the sun beating down on him making it worse. He wouldn't have any trouble that day since he'd used sunscreen, but the fight-or-flight instinct instilled by his paternal heritage urged him to stroll in shaded areas for the most part. Smashed between two Cajun restaurants, the little shop was situated quite comfortably. Exterior-wise, it was far less eye-catching than others on the street, sticking to a normal white and gray color scheme. Not a bad idea for a shop that deals in magical items, really. Bo peeked through the window. The inside was dark, even though the sign said 'Open.'

"Is it safe to enter? What if she's on lunch break?" Bo asked with worry.

"Just because the lights are off doesn't mean nobody is there, Bo." Rose replied. "Maybe she's doing a séance or something."

"A what?"

"Séance. Communicating with spirits." Rose shrugged. "I read a lot."

He put a hand on the handle. Suddenly, Bo felt a tingling sensation inside his gut. It was as though an invisible force was trying to repel him. "Maybe we should have called instead."

"It's better to ask in person. This lady was your mom's friend, too, so that might help."

Bo sighed. She was right. "Ladies first."

"Coward."

Coward or not, Bo didn't like the feel of the building. Haziness began clouding his senses, dulling them. His hands grew slightly clammy. The half-breed snuck a glance at Rose; she was fine. Was it all in his head? Of course, Bo reasoned. What else? He rubbed his eyes, following the girl.

The doorbell chimed. The Eagles "Witchy Woman" played in the background. Whoever this Amelia lady was, at least she had humor. The walls were shelved with various objects: jars of foreign spices, dusty books with unreadable inscriptions, dried animal limbs, and a very large collection of different salt types. Black sea salt, dead sea salt, Himalayan salt, table salt, bath salts, there was every single kind of salt imaginable. What would a witch want with an aisle of salt? Did she have a snail infestation or something?

A collection of books straight out of fantasy fiction were lined up in alphabetical order. None of the authors were ones he knew. To top it off, she even had a section for trashy romance novels; all of which were centered around witches. Go figure.

Every step he took, the heavier he felt. By the time they reached the back he was sweating profusely. An uncontrollable force pushed at him. Fire broke out in his stomach, spreading to his lungs and heart. Suddenly, the invisible flames reached his blood, scattering to every end of his body. It became unbearably hot. He couldn't handle it anymore. His fangs ran out, startling Rose.

"Wait a sec, Rose. My body, it feels weird. Something's wrong." Bo said between breaths. He leaned against a table. "I don't think this place wants us here."

"What are you talking about? I don't feel a thing." Rose brought a hand to his forehead in concern.

The touch felt heavenly. He leaned into it, basking in the coolness. The Halfling could feel her pulse from her soft palm. He licked his extra canines subconsciously. Was it just him, or was her face a little pinker than before? Bo didn't care; all he wanted was that cool soft hand against his burning temple.

"You shouldn't feel anything, girly. Only vampires are affected."

An older woman with pixie cropped hair and a calm expression approached them. Bo recognized her. She was the lady he met at the funeral. Amelia Broadway didn't appear to be very magical (more like a suburban housewife in his opinion), however the moment she snapped her hands the huge pressure on his body was lifted. After a few seconds he caught his breath and moved Rose's hand away. She smiled at him in relief. Retracting his fangs, he placed an arm around Rose to balance himself. The half-human teen turned his attention to the witch.

"What… what was that?"

Amelia Broadway broke out into a grin. "It's one of the spells I've been working on. It keeps vampires from entering."

"What happens when they do?" Rose probed with caution.

"A risk of combustion, I think. I haven't really had a vampire to test it on though, so I'm not sure."

Bo paled. "C-c-combusting?"

She waved her hand, as though it were nothing. "Don't worry about it. You're only half of one, so the spell probably wouldn't do that to you."

"But he was close, wasn't he?" Rose said, her expression stern. "He was hot to the touch."

"I didn't say it wouldn't affect him." Replied the witch in a matter-of-fact way.

"How did you know I was half-vampire?" The teenager took another deep breath. "Mr. Compton said you were my mom's friend. You're Ms. Amelia, right? Was she in touch with you when she left?"

The spellcaster put up a hand, her expression guarded. "Let's talk about this in the backroom. It's more protected against those who may be listening."

Bo's jaw clenched. "Is the witch who killed my mother somewhere in here?" Something snapped inside him. "What do you know?"

She ushered them into another area, one far less cluttered and messy. "Of course not! I simply don't want anyone else to know you two are here. As for your second question, yes, I do know a few things." She smiled like a cat.

"Come, come!" She brought them to a table with three chairs. One opened TrueBlood and two glasses of lemonade were waiting for them. A thought ran through Bernard's head. She had been expecting them.

"How did you—" Rose tried to ask, before the witch threw up a hand.

"I knew you two would be coming. I'm no expert on foreseeing the future, but your arrival has been one of the clearest visions I've ever had." Amelia took the chair on the left. She exuded excitement and eagerness. "How can I be of service?"

"Well, you could start from the beginning. How did you and mom come to meet?"

Amelia's face softened, her enthusiasm dimming a smidge. "She and I were friends back when she lived in Bon Temps. I was even her roommate for awhile. We had a small falling out for a bit, though we still talked from time to time. She never judged me for my past and I helped her a couple times with my magic. When I learned she was pregnant with you and wanted to leave, well, I knew what I had to do."

"So Mr. Compton was right. You did mask my smell, or whatever."

"Partially. I had help."

"From who?" Rose said, interest written on her visage.

"The fairy world was supposed to be zipped up tight almost two decades ago. Something strange happened though, throughout all the nearby dimensions. Rips began to form unintentionally. Nobody knew what was going on. Each one they tried to reseal simply led to another opening up in its place. No one knows what started it." She shrugged. "Anyway, one of her cousins helped out in the end. Big hunky guy, though kind of a dick. She was pretty against it at first, but eventually she relented. They had some bad blood between them. The moment the magic took effect was the moment Sookie ran for the hills, or in this case, New York. The two different magics kept you and her off the radar for awhile. She and I talked a handful of times about how things were going. She talked about you especially. Sookie really loved her little Bo-bear."

Bo turned a deep shade of scarlet. He never wanted to hear that nickname again. Rose snorted. "Bo-bear?"

"Shut up, Rose. What was she running from?"

"The Queen of Oklahoma, I think. Some other supes had a bone to pick with her as well. She knew that if you lived out here in the open you'd be a lot more susceptible. She talked it over with her lawyer and they decided that the best option would be to hit the road. I'm guessing she choose New York because of its population size and her anonymity there."

His mom was right about one thing: living in Bon Temps wasn't the greatest idea in the world. How many attempts on his life had there been over the past month? "What about the witch? How does she fit into all this?"

Amelia's features darkened, her demeanor no longer as open. She shook her head. "She came here about a month ago with some Weres for hire. Wanted to start a coven." The middle-aged woman's wrinkles became more severe. "She said her coven had been slaughtered in New York, their meeting place burned to the ground."

"I could already tell she wasn't right in the head. Too much dark magic had clouded her being. It's tragic, really. She wasn't much older than you, yet the grief and loss of her family had destroyed her completely. All she wants is revenge. She told me she killed the ones that were involved in the act, including some famous telepath. As if it were all justifiable. I would have killed her if I wasn't in my position. So, as the head of the New Orleans coven I immediately turned down her request and demanded she leave the state. Now, every week I am losing my members and their families to her or her wolves. We've taken down a few, but we're scared. She's insane." The coven leader was distraught.

"So she's after both of us."

"At the moment, yes. Practically anyone can set her off, though. She's a ticking time bomb of batshit crazy."

Bo's face relayed nothing. "What is her name?"

"Tina McCoy."

The half-vampire tensed, dark emotions blanketing him. "And she is the one who killed my mother?"

Amelia nodded. "Yes. She even admitted it."

Bo closed his eyes. Red had clouded his vision. "Then I will kill her."

The statement was a final one. Neither of the females disputed it. Bo didn't like the thought of killing another human being. In his mind, it separated him from the thing he feared inside him. With this witch however, that rule would be broken. It needed to be broken, the blacker, more vampiric part of him demanded it. Dark thoughts gathered in his mind. He was going to find this woman and cause her as much pain as she did him. There would be no mercy.

One look at Rose and Amelia returned him to the present. Now was not the time to dwell on such notions.

"Do you have anything I can use to locate her? Or perhaps keep her off my back?"

"Sorry. I'd need a possession of hers to do that. I can call in some of my coven to ward your house though, if that helps."

"That'll do." Bo took out his wallet. "How much do I need to pay you for this?"

"Consider it on the house. Sookie was my friend. It's the least I could do."

He crossed his arms, uncomfortable with the woman's kindness. "Well, if you ever need any help with something, you can call me."

"That's sweet of you, kid. If I ever need someone to mow my lawn I'll be sure to call."

Rose laughed at Bo's pouty expression. Everyone underestimated him these days. The two teenagers got up to leave a moment later. Unexpectedly, Amelia grabbed the dhampir by the wrist halfway to the exit.

"Wait!" She exclaimed. "One more thing, I almost forgot. Before you go, I'd like to offer you a short reading."

"A reading?"

"Palm reading. It's another way of telling the future." She shrugged. "I'm not very good at it, but I like to practice. It's a new hobby of mine."

"Another way? How many ways are there to see into the future?" Inquired Rose.

"A couple." The head witch gestured to some books on a nearby shelf. "Come back sometime and I might lend you a book, girl."

He sat across from the coven master, hand splayed out on the table. It was total bullshit in his mind, but what the hell. Ms. Amelia opened his clenched fingers, tracing the lines on them.

"You're right-handed, correct?"

Bo nodded.

She examined him closely. "You have very large, broad hands. Square-like too. Earth is your element."

"My element?"

"It's about your character. Some people use ten but I like to use the four hand type system. Much easier. People with Earth are thought to be practical and reliable. Good with their hands, so to speak."

Bo's face eased, soaking in the compliments. Even if it wasn't a real thing, he still liked being praised by another. "Anything else?"

"Incredibly stubborn with little patience."

He glared. "That's not—"

"Wow, Bo! She really hit the nail on that one." Rose giggled.

"You are going to have a long life and some romance troubles, you poor heartbreaker you. And this line here, the one that runs from the bottom to your wrist, that's your fate line. You have a fairly long travel line too. Your path will not be an easy one." She paused. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?" Bo copied, his mouth twisting downward. "That's not good."

"There's an x."

"Okay… explain why that's important."

"It's an Ominous line that has crossed your life line. This is the biggest one I've ever seen. They aren't good omens to have."

"Then I'm screwed?" The reality of this whole thing began to change. Could this truly be real? Like the magic she used before? Belief and fact started to blur in a way he wasn't comfortable with.

"Not necessarily. There is going to be a big event one day. One you will be involved in either directly or indirectly. Either way, you'll be one of the principal causes. Yes, there is no escaping this sort of thing."

"Great, so I have more to worry about?"

"Not anytime soon." Brushing off the seriousness of the conversation, the witch grinned and said, "Okay. No more gloomy stuff. How much longer are you two gonna be here?"

Rose checked her watch. "Probably another two hours."

She practically hopped up and down. "Excellent! I've got some cookies in the back, homemade chocolate chip, too. Who wants some?"

The vampire's spawn instantly raised his hand. He never turned down cookies.

"Good. You two make yourselves comfortable." She disappeared through a door made of beads.

"Do you think she's telling the truth?" Rose asked.

"I think she's right about the crazy witch. That doesn't appear to be made up. I'm not so sure on the palm reading, though."

"Oh? I thought she gave a good description of you."

"Part of me is thinking this is all a hoax."

"And the other?"

"Shit scared. I feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff, with no place to go. If I fall, I die. If I don't, I'm probably going to be facing something unpleasant." Bo crossed his arms. He hunched over, feeling vulnerable.

"And then there's that thing, my other side that craves to fight, to reach out and snap someone's neck, to drain the life out of my enemies. What if that gets out? Is that the big event she was talking about? Am I going to lose my humanity?"

The move caught him completely off guard. He lightly touched his cheek, the place her lips had fallen. For a split-second, electricity seemed to have passed through him. Rose brought her hand into his own, intertwining their digits.

"Feel better?"

"I don't know." He relaxed into the chair. "Perhaps another will help."

"No."

He repeated her action.

"Hey!"

Bo tossed her a shit-eating grin. "Feel better?"

She responded with another eyeroll.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

Salut! Thank you for all the reviews! A huge thank you to my beta Wandersfar, for some dialogue help, editing, and great advice as always! Hope you enjoy!

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><p>Chapter 23<p>

Bo tapped his index finger against the glass window. Nervousness did not even begin to describe what he felt.

Air conditioning blew softly in the background, along with classical music he had never heard before. Mr. Compton's black Mercedes-Benz was far more discreet than the rest of the vehicles outside the king's lair; each car must have cost an arm and a leg. An ironic twist was that half the cars had solar panel roofs. Cute. Truly. He shook his head in astonishment. This sort of money could have bought a small African country, with enough cash left over to keep the UN from intervening.

No words passed between the two men on the way over. The half-human teen leaned back, uncertainty inscribed into his features. A room full of vampires equaled a nest of vipers in his opinion. Gone was the nice afternoon with Rose, now overtaken by the dread building in his stomach. Clenching his left fist, the dhampir remembered his purpose. He came for a reason; he wasn't going to retreat.

Mr. Compton cracked his knuckles, staring through the front window. "You don't have to do this, Bernard. We could go back home."

The teen in question sighed. "It's not like I really have a choice. Pam will kill me if I don't show up. Plus, I need to set some things straight with him. I can't believe he didn't tell me he was having a party though. Am I supposed to be part of the entertainment or something?"

"No, Eric isn't like that. He'll want to show you off."

"Show me off? What am I, a trophy wife?"

"This is his way of illustrating his power, of consolidating his rule. Knowing Eric, he is both giving you protection and taking the opportunity to gloat. Killing two birds with one stone as they say. I know this may surprise you, but vampire/human children are not exactly in large supply."

Bo gasped, his hand on his chest. "Did you just use sarcasm, Mr. Compton?"

The man's face was unreadable. "Your fake astonishment truly is inspiring. Perhaps you should be in theater."

"Not much interest in being a man in tights. So, to summarize what you're saying, I'm like a hot new ride?"

"Not exactly." Mr. Compton checked his watch. "You'll probably find out when you get inside."

"Geez, thanks for leaving me hanging, Obi Wan." Bo unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the automobile. He shut the door with a thump. "Off to the Death Star. Don't wait up for me."

The vampire blinked in surprise. It vanished a moment later. He rolled down the window. With a very serious expression, he told Bo, "May the force be with you."

The teen might have laughed if he wasn't so petrified. He brushed off the invisible dirt on his pants. He was still wearing his outfit from earlier. If there was a dress code Bo didn't know about it. Fashion never was his gift. Suits made everything too serious in his mind. Retying his shoelaces in a lazy attempt at stalling, a small shuffling sound met his ears. He glanced up.

"Motherfucker!" Bo's heart skipped a beat. He fell back onto the curb, hurting his ass.

"No, that's Eric." Pam said, her purple chiffon dress almost black in the dark of the night. Her wheat-colored hair was curled into ringlets. The undead woman tapped her watch, her impatience evident. "You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago."

The teen stared up at her, wide-eyed. Finally, he sarcastically remarked, "Some people call that fashionably late."

"Some people fuck around with vampires in an attempt to be funny. You know what happens to them?" Pam studied her nails, her voice drier than a desert.

He put up his hands in a sign of peace. "Hey, hey. I'm here now, okay? Let's not get into any arguments."

The teen scanned the front yard. His vision was a lot better in the daytime. Two vampire guards stood at attention by the entrance, dressed in the finest body armor money could buy. Their gear flickered in and out of sight: invisibility shields, Bo guessed. Tiny microscopic cameras embedded into sleek militarized black armor created the effect. One minute you were there, and the next you vanished. Of course, things like shadows and glitches were not yet solved, but on a vampire that mattered little. They were fast enough to avoid those sorts of issues.

Pam grasped him by the elbow, steering him to the door. "Eric's been waiting for you since nightfall. Guess who had to help him entertain his followers?" Her heels clicked against the cobblestone sidewalk. "I can tolerate Angela, but Samson has been stalking me since the party started. Persistent little asshole."

"Who are they?" Bo asked, nearly tripping from the pace Pam set.

"Sheriffs of other Areas in the state. They're not too pleased their King isn't living in New Orleans like every other ruler has in the past. To add fuel to the fire, the New Orleans Sheriff is an incompetent fool with more interest in women than actually doing his job."

"I take it that's Samson?"

She gave him a cool smile. "So you do have a brain. Good. Use it as much as you can in there. Those people will be watching your every move."

"So you're sending me into a lion's den I take it."

An evil twinkle arose in her eyes. "Pretty much, Daniel."

Perhaps one day Bo and Pam might come to respect each other, the teen thought. As it was, the idea that she would both literally and metaphorically send him into danger did little for his opinion of her.

"Anything else I need to be aware of?"

"Yes, there is." She turned the knob, light flooding his vision. "One of them will likely try to test you, so keep an eye out."

"Test me?"

"Just don't fuck up, okay, munchkin?"

While Bernard was a good couple of inches taller than the woman he didn't comment. "Any other wondrous advice, Pam?"

"Don't fuck up too badly. Blood is a pain to remove from carpet."

Gold, purple, and green were the theme of the party, men and women wearing some piece in reverence to that rule. Maybe Bo should have listened more to the voicemail messages. He swerved back to find Pam, but she was gone. Mercifully, nobody appeared to notice his presence. As an experienced conversation-dodger, the young male crossed the crowded floor over to a potted plant.

There was an assortment of people in the living room. He counted maybe thirty or so, most probably being of the undead persuasion, if pale skin and wine glasses full of blood were anything to go by. Strung in the group were a few humans, waiters from Fangtasia he guessed. They too were outfitted in Mardi Gras-like colors. One of the staff, a male in his late twenties with two pierced eyebrows, walked towards him. Ah oh.

"A TrueBlood for you, sir?" The man pushed the glasses of blood into his face.

It was thoughtful, but Bo drank some an hour ago. The liquid was disgusting enough to have once ‚Äî any more would be cruel and unusual punishment. "No thanks. Do you have any sodas? I could really go for some Coke."

The attendant flipped back his ridiculous hair, sighing in exasperation. "Unfortunately, we are out of human drinks at the moment. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Bo shook his head, dismissing the man. He scanned the ground in another attempt at people-watching. Near the back, on a large maroon couch, a crowd had gathered. Bo squinted; two females shuffled to the right.

He looked into the open rooms in the corridor to his left. Two human females were entertaining a vampire of indeterminate age. In another open chamber, a member of the undead was making out with her significant other. Fresh fang marks were clearly visible on the humans' skins. No one else in the place was bothered by this. Bo shook his head. There was no way he would ever do something like that. His conviction to be human strengthened, as did his fear of what he truly was. Denial had always been a very good friend to him after all.

The king of the state sat cross-legged in the thick of it. A royal purple tie contrasted against his tailored black suit. The Viking helmet had made another appearance as well, though this time it wasn't on his head. Perhaps it was a joke among the undead, the fact that their new ruler used to plunder coasts as though he were shopping at a grocery store. Or maybe the man simply enjoyed shocking people, sometimes at the most inopportune times, like some poor dhampir on a certain Thursday night. Wine glass in hand (sans anything remotely alcoholic), the lord spoke too softly for Bo to hear over the slow music and crowd. Someone said something humorous, causing the king and his posse to laugh. At least someone was having fun.

It was still hard to believe this man was related to him. The king appeared to be in his twenties or thirties, pale as snow and yet as lively as fire. Anyone could tell he was the center of the party, from the way he took up space, his position in the room, or just in the way he carried himself. Bernard was a gangly teen caught between childhood and manhood, uncertainty and awkwardness exuding from his being. Every time he saw the man he compared their differences; it was his way of adding distance between them.

Amongst the creatures of the night Bo stood out like a bright crayon in a box of dark charcoals. One thing was for sure: he did not want to be here.

He leaned to the side of the plant in an attempt to see better. Abruptly, loud laughter erupted from a group next to the boy, startling him. Switching his attention back to the regent, Bo discovered that the king of the swamplands had vanished. Where did he go? Oh, wait.

A shadow blanketed him. From the edge of his vision he could see the vampire, arms crossed with amusement and slight confusion. Everything about him was groomed. Even his fingernails were trimmed and polished.

"Why are you hiding behind my ficus?"

He did the first thing that came to mind. Being caught in stupid situations usually led to him making similar actions. This was no different. Bo touched the tree, pretending he knew what he was doing. "Wow, these leaves are so fresh and green. And look at how strong these branches are. Do you water it once or twice a day? I must say, it is truly a wonderful specimen of plantiness."

"It's fake." Eric stated plainly.

Bo didn't move an inch. "Lowe's craftsmanship?"

"Ikea actually."

"Ikea makes things other than shitty furniture?"

"Indeed." The avoided father moved closer into Bo's line of sight. "If you like plants so much we can buy you some for your new room. I hope you don't mind if we use one of the former guestrooms. It's a nice size and has a bathroom."

"I'm not moving in, Eric." Bo finally faced the man. Well, more like looked up his nose. He would have to play things gently, or as gently as someone like Bo could before overheating. "It's nice of you to invite me to your little fiesta, but I have a home in Bon Temps. A job, too."

"You don't even get minimum wage."

"No, but it's enough for now. The money mom left gave me a couple months to settle down and fix part of the house before I need to worry about anything else. I might even charge Bill and Tim for some rent. I don't know, I'm just winging it right now."

The man sighed, his eyebrows pulling together. "You and Sookie are like two peas in a pod. Stubborn mules are easier to convince." He grasped his son on the shoulder. "We'll speak more after the introduction. Perhaps we'll make a deal."

"I'm not here for a deal." Bo said in annoyance. "Wait, introduction?"

The vampire lord grinned. It was a smile Bo had seen in the mirror. It said, ‚'You-cannot-escape.' Bo responded with his own ‚'please-don't-do-this.' The effect was limited at best.

"Don't worry. It's just a little speech. You're in it, of course."

Bo could feel the Eric-sized migraine return from the night before. "Oh hell no. No, we are not doing this, Eric."

His fucking father raised his hand in the air. The talking stopped, as expected. Thirty-some undead faces turned toward them. The boy almost stepped back, only to be stopped by the ruler of the land. Eric wrapped an arm over his shoulders, as if they were close. The Stackhouse boy tensed, unsure of what to do. He could practically feel the blood in his veins growing cold.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for coming this evening." The king started, his other hand gesturing to the crowd. "I could not have done this without your votes. And your funds, of course." Light laughter. "This is a celebration of a new kingdom, a new century where we can live in the open, side-by-side with our breathing companions. I was born in a time when having a farm and some slaves were considered wealthy for people. The average life expectancy was barely thirty. Now, in a time of more innovation than the world has ever seen, I have been granted things I couldn't believe in my wildest dreams. A kingdom. Loyal subjects. My child, Pam." Pam was far in the back, a trio of pretty young things surrounding her. "And finally, my son and heir, Bernard."

Nobody laughed. In fact, a few appeared to be irritated, almost angry. Whispers broke out. Bo caught some shuffling about in the crowd. Finally, a short roundish man with red hair and a mean scar laughed loudly.

"My liege, we are honored to be here tonight, but please, this little farce needs to end. My sides can't take much more of it." From his accent Bo guessed him to be from somewhere in the south, though that could simply be after living centuries there.

Eric did not back down. His gaze was bright and could quite possibly burn down the entire place, Bernard thought. Thankfully, he was not on the receiving end of that look. "It's not a farce, O'Kelly. He's my own flesh and blood."

Bo could almost see the sneer underneath the man's wild curly beard. "Prove it."

Eric switched back to his son, almost expecting something. The teen raised an eyebrow. What was he, a dog?

Out of nowhere, a solution came, though not one Bo would have anticipated. Looking for a way out he saw something shining in the crowd, an object of some sort. It flickered in and out of view. A blur of movement caught his attention. Instinctively, the adolescent caught it before it reached its target, which was two inches from his forehead. Another bout of silence ensued. Bo opened his hand.

"Did somebody lose a fork?" He asked.

A fork. A freaking fork. He weighed it in his hand. Fear, anger, and disbelief flooded him. The boy could see his reflection in the item, pale as death and eyes wide as saucers. He could feel his legs lightly trembling underneath him. Holy shit, he thought. The teen's fangs slipped out without him meaning to. Emotions played around wildly in his mind. He was almost done in by a fucking piece of cutlery.

Put a fork in him; he was done with these threats on his life.

The lord of Louisiana stood frozen in place. An expression that could scare the pants off of any sane person was sitting on the vampire king's face. A ripple of reactions flashed through his eyes, the teen too inexperienced to keep up with them all. He took the silverware from the boy's hand and promptly crushed it. Bo's eyes couldn't get any wider.

"Proof? You ask proof from me, your king, O'Kelly? I've never lied to you, never laid a hand on one of your people, yet you come into my house, speak against me and try to hurt my son? Unforgivable. I relieve you of your position. You and your subjects have until dawn to leave the state. After that," he narrowed his eyes at the rotund vampire, "I will hunt you."

The man sneered, though his fear was readily apparent. "Gladly."

A door burst open as a few blurs exited the building. O'Kelly and whoever followed him had flown the coop. Weariness overrode Bo. He was sure this wouldn't be the last time he saw that vampire.

Eric continued his speech a heartbeat later, going on about each area's contribution. Bo caught numerous eyes glancing at him until he looked their way. He saw awe and fascination and possibly a new respect for their king. In all their hundreds of years they had seen something new and it showed. They kept their distance however. After the commotion minutes before, no one wanted to get on Eric's bad side.

Unable to focus on his father, Bo drifted off into his own thoughts. He needed to get back to work finding his mother's murderer. Research would probably be the best course of action, though he was uncertain how to proceed. Bo was no Sherlock Holmes, but he wasn't a complete fool with computers either. But how could he find a murderous witch? Go on Craigslist? Google her?

"Bo."

"Huh?" He snapped out of his stupor. It was Eric. "Oh, you're done."

"Were you even listening?"

"Uh, something about vampire stuff?"

The king sighed. "You're impossible. I couldn't get your attention if I lit myself on fire."

"True, but go ahead with the fire lighting anyway. Parties should always have a show at the end."

Eric's brows drew together. "Why do you dislike me so much?"

"Oh, let's see." Bo ticked off each point with his fingers. "You sent me a six figure bill. Your lackey has it out for me. You scare the shit out of me sometimes. You keep forcing a father-son relationship that isn't there."

"That's only four." Eric shrugged. "I can work with that."

"You're also arrogant and keep trying to control my life!"

"Arrogant is such a harsh word. I believe fantastic is a better description. At least, that's what women have told me."

"Probably after you've glamoured them."

"Don't be so jealous, Bo. One day," he gestured between them, "You might be as handsome as me. If you're lucky."

"As if." The teen retorted. "I'll stick to mom's side."

The undead ruler patted his back. "You've got more of me in you than you realize."

"Yeah, thanks for the undying thirst for blood and the skin problems. That'll be a real hit with the ladies."

"That reminds me," Eric changed the subject. "Aren't you seeing a certain lady?"

That question caught Bo completely off-guard.

"What?" The teen began to stammer. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on. Who's the girl?"

"There is no girl."

"You're my son. There must be a girl." He smirked. "Unless you like boys. That's fine, too."

"No, I like girls," Bo muttered, looking anywhere but at his father. Dear god, he was acting like a little kid. Of course, every time he was around her he felt that way. But he'd never accepted any help wooing the opposite sex before and he wasn't about to start now. His love life was not up for discussion.

"Well then, who is she? Is it that girl from Thursday? I've forgotten her name."

Bo stayed silent, looking down at his shoes. He could practically hear the king's smirk widen.

"Oh ho! It is. I assume you've had sex with her already. Are you using protection? I've read that's what responsible fathers should ask."

"What?" Bo's head snapped up. "Rose and I aren't like that!"

The vampire king frowned. "Now, son, that isn't right," he admonished Bo sternly. "If I could impregnate your mother you could certainly knock up—"

"No, that's not what I meant!" The mortified dhampir lowered his voice to a hushed whisper, "We are not having sex."

"Oh," Eric was clearly taken aback. "Why not?"

Bo glared at his father.

"Are you sure you like girls?" When it became obvious his son was not going to answer, he tried again. "So her name is Rose. Are you at least dating?"

"I don't know. Maybe? This isn't something I want to talk about."

"Rose, Rose, Rose..." The lord of Louisiana murmured. "That name sounds familiar."

"Her dad's kind of a sheriff." The teen admitted reluctantly.

"No way. You mean Sheriff Bellefleur? Ha! This is like one of Pam's soap operas. Does Bill know about this?"

"Why should he? It's my life." Bo shook his head. "Listen, I don't want—"

"So that makes her," Eric thought for a moment. "Bill's great-great-great-great granddaughter." He chuckled. "How ironic."

"Wait, what?" That explained Mr. Compton's dislike for their relationship at least. Still, this was extremely awkward to think about. The man lived in his home.

"It's a good thing I'm your father and not Bill, eh?" Eric clapped his son hard on the shoulder and Bo stumbled forward a little before catching himself. "That would have been awkward."

Bo's eyes widened as he figured out the implication. "Oh god, I would have been dating my great-great-great-whatever-niece!"

"Yet another thing you would have shared with Compton. Did you know he dated Portia for a while? That would be Rose's aunt, if you haven't met her already."

Images shot up like fireworks in his mind. He closed his eyes, banishing them to the recesses of his thoughts. "Why did you have to tell me that? Fuck! Ugh, now I need some brain bleach."

This was way too fucking weird. Bo had only been a couple months out of New York, and already he was entangled in some backwoods country incest fest. He'd heard enough.

"It's almost adorable, except for the fact that Bill's involved."

"I'm not listening to this." Bo shuffled through the crowd, heading for an open door. Shutting it behind him, he relaxed a smidge.

Modern and slightly plain, the chamber didn't have the same sort of elegance the living room had. Instead, it was stripped of any personality, furnished with just a blue blanketed bed, a lamp, a desk, one mahogany chest of drawers, and a large telescreen.

Bo was especially drawn to the newest piece of technology. Telescreens were the hottest things on the market, if you could afford to drop a couple hundred thousand dollars for one. To actually see one in real life rocked him to the core. Where the hell did vampires get all this money from?

"So, how do you like your new room?"

He backed up against the wall, nearly knocking over the lamp. Bo could feel his heart pound heavily in his ribcage. "Holy shit! How did you get in here?"

The king of surprises turned on the light. "From the door in the bathroom. It's a connecting one."

"I thought you said I would get my own bathroom. For myself."

Eric grinned. "So, you have finally agreed to move in?"

"No! You know what, just forget it. I really shouldn't have come. Herding cats is easier than convincing you of anything."

"You wanted to talk? Let's talk." He stated calmly, hands up in the universal sign of peace. "Let's start with this: Why are you so adamant on not living with me? Is it because of Rose? You may invite your lover here, if you like."

He threw the man a look of irritation. "Why? You're asking why?" He chose to ignore the 'lover' comment.

"Yes." Eric said seriously. "I've got money, a house, a stable job, security. No one can hurt you here."

"Yes, because O'Kelly did not just make an attempt on my life."

"That's different. Our kind believe you exist now. They saw you out there, and news like that doesn't just disappear over night. There will likely be lots of paperwork but," He stretched, "I can deal with that. Boring as hell though. You would think as King I could just exile people whenever I want and make others do my bookkeeping. I'll probably have to write a report about O'Kelly tonight, too. Maybe I can get Pam to do it for me."

"So now that every vampire in Louisiana knows I exist, I am suddenly free from danger?" Bo said incredulously.

"No, but definitely less likely to be killed by any of my vampires."

The son brushed his bangs back, exhaustion overtaking him. Today had been a long, long day. "Okay. Here's the deal, Eric. I barely know you. I'm sure you think that'll change if I come to live with you, and maybe it would. But I'm not going to. I'm nearly an adult and after living quite a few weeks in that role I've come to find myself having at least some confidence in dealing with things. I know I'll make mistakes. Humans do that."

Eric opened his mouth but the teen put his hand up.

"I know you're not going to accept that. So, let's go with your idea from before. A deal of some kind. What do you want me to do that doesn't require me to live here? I'm not exactly talented in anything though, just saying."

Quietly, the ruler of the marshlands contemplated his son's words. Bernard crossed his arms. Hopefully, the consequences wouldn't be too bad.

Eric's face brightened, as he was apparently struck with an idea. "Every king needs a prince."

Ah oh. Dread sailed in like the Spanish Armada. "And what does that entail?"

"You won't have to live here, but you will have to go with me to some special meetings and the like. You'd have some other jobs, too, however we can get into that later when the time comes."

"So I do this anytime you want? Any night you want?"

"Don't worry. I will compensate Sam for your missed hours. At most, it will only be a night or two every week, depending on what I require from you."

"Is this a paid position?"

"Do you want to live with me?" The undead king questioned back.

"Unpaid intern then."

Eric smirked. "It could be worse. You won't have to pay for anything. You'll have health insurance as well. Think of it as a very good unpaid internship."

The newly appointed prince sighed. "Great. When is my first job?"

"How does Wednesday night sound to you?"

"I'm never going to win with you, am I?"

Eric lay down on the bed, leaning his head against his palm. "Nope. Best to cut your losses now, really."

"I think I'll stick with my gamble for the moment."

"That's what I like about you, Bo." The man smiled. "Unrelenting as the sea. You know, when I was a young man—"

Bernard headed for the door. "Leaving."

The boy practically ran out of the house.

Every move he made seemed to bring him deeper and deeper into the supernatural world.

Whether or not he would drown in it was the problem.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

I am indeed alive. Sorry for the lack of chapters. I've started college once again and free time is seldom. A humongous thanks to my beta Wandersfar for having so much patience and being awesome. Hope you enjoy the chapter. Sorry for the lateness of it once again, and thank you for all the reviews.

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><p>A werewolf, a fairy, and a vampire walked into a bar. This sounded like the start of a bizarre joke, but for Bo, it was all in a day's work.<p>

Thankfully, it wasn't at the same time; that would have been a disaster.

Tuesday night felt unseasonably cold for a southern town like Bon Temps. Bo wore a light coat most of the day. The windows to the outside world were fogged up from rain. Summer's hold on Northern Louisiana had begun to wane. A September child by birth, the thought of cooler temperatures pleased him. Longer nights and cloudy days meant less sunburns and headaches after all. He paused, eyes widening. Another thought danced into the forefront of his musings.

His birthday was soon.

The idea of being eighteen produced some mixed emotions. He would be legally an adult in the eyes of the law, no longer needing permission to do things. It was also his first birthday without his mother. He couldn't pretend the thought didn't depress him.

What would he do with the rest of his life? Would he stay in Bon Temps, working as a waiter? He could go into the service. Free college was always a plus. But, the whole human/vampire issue would cause some issues to be sure. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

He checked the clock. Earlier in the week, he and Rose rummaged through the internet and newspaper racks for more case material. One thing was for certain in his mind.

Tina McCoy was a tough bitch to find.

She was in her early twenties from what he found in his second internet search, still registered at a community college in New York. No criminal record to speak of either. The witch used to be frequent visitor of a magic forum in the earlier part of the year, but her last login time was in May. Her parents were killed in a fire, or so he gathered from the obituaries. Residence unlisted. No other known relatives. Home phone disconnected. All these things led them to one conclusion: she didn't want to be found.

What intrigued him the most was the incident of her parents' death, only a week before his mother's. That couldn't be a coincidence. Had his mother really been involved with this young woman?

Compton and Tim woke up the second the sun fell, taking on late-study for him. In reality, it was more like Tim lazing around on the couch, while Bill video-called some of his associates. Not exactly an expert team of researchers, Bo thought.

The young man twirled the straw in his drink, sighing.

He received a call about his mother's murder case on Monday. Apparently, the department had mysteriously 'misplaced' her folder. How a month old murder went missing was anyone's guess. Bo thought it was bullshit. Someone was messing with the files. Someone like an evil witch out for his head.

It didn't matter. He knew what she wanted; it was only a matter of time. One of them would come out on top. The question was: how bloody was it going to be?

Bernard Stackhouse felt like he was at a crossroads, with no inkling as to which way to go. He downed the rest of the TrueBlood in the back, heavy in contemplation. His fifteen-minute 'blood' break ended before the night crowd showed up, their entrance almost like clockwork. It was amazing how people stuck to their own routines.

Finishing off the type O bottle, the young half-blood resisted the urge to gag. The scratchiness in his throat was getting worse and the synthetic drink did little other than feed the rising hunger. He caught himself watching Rose's pulse on the way back from lunch. Perfect, he mused, another problem to deal with.

Throwing the bottle into the recycle bin at the other side of the room, he reentered the main dining area—

Only to be confronted by a werewolf.

He first noticed the dark hair streaked with gray and the short-clipped beard. They were his most striking features. Behind that, a stern wolfish face and dark pressed suit told Bo the man was not one to be trifled with. Well, it was either that or the Were posse standing behind him. Both were not welcoming sights.

"Can I help you Mr…?"

"Herveaux. Alcide Herveaux."

A light went off in the half-human's head. "You're the guy from mom's funeral."

"Yes. I've come to check up on some things in Bon Temps. I've heard you've had a problem with a Were?"

"Oh yeah. Wait, how do you know that?" Bo squinted his eyes, then shrugged. "It doesn't really matter so much anymore. The guy's dead."

The werewolves froze. "Did… did you kill him?" The older male asked.

"What, no, why would you guys…?" Bo paused. He looked around the room. No customers had shown up yet. The waitresses and Sam were near the bar, watching. Mr. Merlotte appeared furious, but he didn't say anything. Something about this situation spelled trouble. He was walking on thin ice.

Bo could feel his face stretch, a fake smile appearing. It was a habit he inherited from his mother. "Maybe we should take this outside, away from the bar." He suggested with caution.

The wolf boss regarded the teen with a calm expression. While tough as hell looking, the male was likely a born and bred businessman, if the polished shoes and tailored suit were anything to go by. "It will only take a minute. Besides, the humans can't hear from this distance."

He glanced at Sam and then back at the werewolf. "My boss can, though."

"That's what we're hoping." Another supe piped in.

Shit, shit, shit. The vulgar mantra played over and over in his head. Bo kept his hands in front of him. He gestured to a table at his right. "Let's get seated, then."

Only Bo and Alcide hunkered into a small booth. The rest stood guard around the table, with a few by the door.

The teen decided to cut to the chase. He ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling the extra teeth poking out halfway. "So, I take it you guys know about the whole vampire-human thing."

The man shrugged, his expression relaxing slightly. "Word travels fast in supernatural groups."

"How long until the rest of supernatural America knows?" Bernard picked up the salt shaker.

"I'd give it a week, give or take. Technology speeds things up."

Bo's eyes widened. He nearly dropped the shaker. "That quickly? Wow. Anything else I should know?"

"The Werewolf Council has not yet decided whether to kill you."

"Not yet decided? What did I do to piss you guys off?"

"A polar bear shifter's body was found near some marshes by the Mississippi river. His heart had been ripped out. Your scent was the most recent on him."

"Okay, listen. I didn't kill him. A vampire did, and it was only to protect me. That was the Were who attacked me last week." The juvenile half-breed gestured wildly with his hands, trying to convey the attack. "The dude tore my arm to shreds and wouldn't even let up until he died. I swear, he wanted to eat me for gods sakes."

"Which vampire? What is his name?"

The young male frowned. "Why does it matter? What would you do to him if I told you?"

"As the Were-General of the South I am obligated to protect Weres in my territory, even if they are guilty of something." The man paused, contemplating his options. "Didn't your mother ever tell you about our world?"

He resisted the urge to groan. Life would have been so much easier if she had. Then maybe he could have avoided it altogether. Bo rubbed his temples. "No. I didn't even know she was a telepath. I didn't know anything. I still don't know much."

"Being an honorary member of the pack provided Sookie with protection. That falls to you through inheritance. As per Were rules, I can't kill you outright. As the son of a vampire king however, many members of the Council are suspicious this is a ploy by the vampires in a larger scheme."

"What is this Council you keep talking about?"

The Were paused, obviously unused to being asked something. "Well, after the two-natured came out, we found that in order to survive we needed a more substantial government, something more centralized. The Council was born from that idea. We have a president and vice president like the federal government, but under that we also have generals. As I said, I'm the General of the South. There are three others as well. I manage affairs between pack groups, as well as my own. We provide support for loner supes like Sam here, and investigate disturbances in our society. "

"Okay. I get it, sort of." The halfling muttered. "Is there any way I can clear my name?"

"Was there anything suspicious about the attack?"

Inwardly, the teen froze. The card. Should he tell them? What if they were on the same side as the bear shifter? "I… I don't know. There wasn't anybody else in the parking lot. It was pretty quiet, too."

"I see… I suppose that's good enough for now. I will report to the Council once I finish investigating." He took out his phone, a clear rectangular instrument with hologram graphics. The teen nearly whistled. How was it everyone around him had so many expensive toys?

As a New Yorker, seeing fancy cars and gadgets was nothing new. Well, perhaps less so now after the Second Economic Crash three years ago, but that was a story. As someone who not too long ago spent his free time after school walking around malls, nostalgia for big city normal was starting to get to him.

"Have you had any other meetings with Weres these past few weeks?"

"No, why? Are there more like him out there?"

"Possibly. A small Were pack moved into Louisiana not too long ago. They didn't register with any Were groups in the area, so we don't know what they're doing here. We were hoping you might know something."

"A coven master named Amelia might be able to help you. The witch who killed my mom has a team of them. Maybe that's them."

"Our cases are more linked than I thought." The man rose to his full height. He straightened out his jacket. "Is there anything more you wish to tell us?"

The teen looked down at his hands, shaking his head. "Not that I know of. What should I do if I accidentally meet these wolves? I don't think they came all the way down here without a reason."

"If the Council is not present then they are bound by the laws of nature."

He looked up, realization dawning. "You don't mean…"

Alcide showed little emotion. The Weres in his group were nearly identical. An unspoken collectiveness clung around the group, loyalty inscribed on their features. It spoke volumes to the teen. Alone, a werewolf wouldn't be too difficult for him to take down. Together however, they created a unity the young dhampir had only seen in animals. Considering they turned into those kinds of things it wasn't a stretch by any means.

"You do whatever it takes to survive."

He shook his head, disgruntled. "I'm not a killer, Mr. Herveaux."

The older supe stood, leaning forward. "I've met a lot of vampires in my lifetime, Bernard Stackhouse. More than I'd care to admit. You act human now, but in a life or death situation, which side do you think will win out?"

Bo glared, his blue eyes burning more than any fire could. He rose to his full height. "I think the Bo side will, sir."

His chest tightened, the rhythm of his heart deafening to his ears. He could still taste the dry, metallic flavor of the TrueBlood.

The werewolf's body eased, tension draining out. "I hope the Bo side wins as well, kid. I really do. Take care of yourself."

They didn't order anything before they left. Warnings were given; not that they truly mattered. It would be sort of hard for them to act, considering his father was the King of the Bayou and all her crocodile-like inhabitants. He let out a sigh of relief when they drove away. What was it with people thinking he would lose control and go full-vampire? It was not exactly heartwarming when both vampires and werewolves thought he was going to go full undead crazy on someone's ass.

Time moved forward. Dishes and tables demanded to be taken care of. The bathroom cried out in despair, desperate for a cleaning after one of the local drunks missed their landing on the white porcelain throne of release. The things he had seen in his life, honestly.

Mr. Merlotte kept an eye on the youth for half an hour before returning to his job. The hustle and bustle of dinnertime kept both men occupied. Things were beginning to fall back to their regular schedule. It surprised him. Barely a month and he had already fallen into the cycle of a little town in Northern Louisiana.

The teen finished scrubbing the sink for another task. Alicia, the young part-timer from the county over, had quit the day earlier. In her stead, Bo had become an unofficial waiter for the evening. Susan was supposedly going to pick up those hours tomorrow along with two other waitresses. In the meantime, he hoped to make as much in tips as possible, even if he was the strange son of 'that' woman.

Tables always quieted down whenever he passed them, his newbie status a continuing local legend with more and more falsehoods added in on their own accord. The hot topic of tonight starred Bo and the baby-daddy. Table One and Table Two believed his father was "one of them shifter-fellows." Table Three romanticized that Sam was the young teen's father and that the reason he had the job was because of him. Table Four, a group with their own agenda, supplied a completely different topic about his mother's ass and tits. Super-hearing was not nearly as fun as they made it out to be in comic books.

"More iced tea for Table Six." The owner yelled over the bar.

"Got it!" He hollered back, balancing the drink with little problem. He rushed, though not too quickly, to the booth. Pouring the cool southern beverage into the man's glass, the teen couldn't help but look sideways. It was hard not to.

Everything about the man spelled trouble, yet the young halfling couldn't stop looking. Leonardo and Michelangelo eat your heart out, he thought. Soft blond hair like an angel from the renaissance and irises as green as emeralds. His wrinkles were fine and appeared to be as though painted on delicate silk, enhancing the strange beauty of the man. Everything about him screamed inhuman. An immaculate gray suit and golden watch on his left wrist were almost unfitting for his god-like visage. A ebony cane to the side of him completed the image. Bo sniffed indiscreetly. Big mistake.

A feast of all kinds of delicacies was the best way Bo could have described it. His mouth watered uncontrollably, pupils dilating. Then, just as suddenly as it came, the scent vanished. Poof. Gone. All that was left was silence.

Complete silence actually. He scanned the area. Everyone appeared blurred, their mouths moving but nothing coming out. Nervousness churned and chilled his entire body. Bo bit his lip, trying to hold onto reality. Alarm bells were going off in his head.

The customer smiled wistfully, his features softening. "Dermot was right. You look almost exactly like Fintan in his youth." His voice was difficult to describe, neither female nor male, yet it echoed softly in the teen's mind. Layers and layers of age and experience were apparent.

He blinked, the cloudiness in his mind disappearing. "What are you?"

"Simply a great-great grandfather passing by the bar where his youngest great-great grandson works."

"Let me guess." Bo remarked flatly, his index finger pointing at his chest. "I'm that guy."

"I wouldn't have called you over here if you weren't."

"Any other waitress could have come here." Bo shifted backwards a step. Everywhere he looked was blurred. "How are you doing this?"

"Magic does have its uses."

"So what, you a wizard or something?" He put a hand on his hip. "Scratch that. You don't seem like the type to wave a wand around. The only thing I can relate you to is that Dermot guy, but that isn't much to go on. Do you have a name I can call you by?"

"I am referred to as Niall. And indeed, you are correct. I am not one of those false practitioners." The man motioned for him to sit, but Bo stood his ground. Escape might be his only option should the man prove dangerous.

"Have you ever heard of the fae?"

"What, like Tinkerbell?"

"More along the lines of the elves from Tolkien's world. Though you wouldn't want to meet a real elf."

"Okay, that doesn't exactly explain much, but whatever." He crossed his arms. "You said something about being my great-great grandpa or something. How did that happen?"

"My son, Fintan, was your great-grandfather. Did Sookie not tell you of her heritage?"

"Let's say I know practically zip about the whole supernatural world except what I've seen on TV. Enlighten me, Legolas."

"Legolas? Oh, I get it." The fairy brightened up slightly, humor rich in his voice. "You have a funny way of dealing with your nerves, great-great-grandson. The fae are… It is difficult to describe them as any one thing. There are many types of us: fairies, elves, angels, demons. My people are of the sky fae. When your mother lived here, there had been a war between the fae of the sky and the fae of the water. I decided to seal us off from the humans in order to bring stability to both our worlds."

"But something happened."

"Yes. Rifts appeared. And not just in our world, either." Bo's ancestor closed his eyes, the agelessness of his face partially slipping. "The Britlingens have had similar problems. I fear what will happen should more dimensional pockets appear."

"More? How many dimensions are there?"

"Where do you think myths about dragons and unicorns come from, my child?"

"Dinosaur bones and too many mushrooms." Bo shook his head. "This is crazy. How can this be?"

"Your mother was an eighth fae and your father is a vampire. Is it truly such a difficult notion?"

The vampiric teen sighed. "No. I guess not. Why does it even matter?"

"In all the centuries I have lived and in those of my ancestors, there has never been a human-vampire hybrid. In stories perhaps, but it was an impossible feat. You have broken nature's law. It could be my blood helped to allow that chaotic mixture. Maybe that is why you are able to walk in the daylight."

"You really believe that?"

"It seems unlikely, but what else can we conclude? Vampires can not breed, period. They are dead. Fae blood isn't going to help with that." The fairy ripped open a sugar packet and put it in his drink. "When were you born, Bernard?"

"September Ninth."

The man sipped his iced tea, deep in contemplation. "The ninth day of the ninth month. How interesting."

"Why's that?"

"The portals began appearing exactly nine months before then. My grandson, Claude, escaped his imprisonment within that time period.

"Yeah. Amelia told me about him. He offered mom some help with the whole hiding thing."

"He came here to Bon Temps?" The fairy's visage darkened. His grip on the drink tightened.

"Yeah. I haven't seen or met him, either. I don't even know what he looks like." Bo tilted his head to the side. "This is such a weird conversation. Why are you here explaining this to me?"

"Even if you are partially vampire, you still carry my blood through your veins. Sookie was one of my favorite grandchildren." Niall's eyes softened from their earlier anger. "And you look so much like Fintan that it hurts my heart. His death was a great loss to me."

"I'm sorry you lost your son." Bo said, unsure of how to help the man. He could empathize with losing family. "Is there anything I can do?"

"It was years ago, my child. You have bigger things to worry about."

"What kind of things?"

"Portals long thought closed reopening, an unprecedented human/vampire birth, and a fairy escaping from an impenetrable prison: all happened in a relatively short timespan. These events do not make much sense alone. But together? Perhaps they are a prelude to something bigger."

"I'm guessing this 'big' event can't be avoided, right?"

"No, I am afraid not. Worlds unfriendly to humankind are moving much closer to this world's barriers, as the Unseelie dimension moves towards my own."

"Un-see-what?"

"They are not important to someone like you. They have not yet reached this world and most likely never will."

"How exactly am I supposed to protect myself, then? You guys: fairies, vampires, Weres, witches, and whatever else, keep giving me snippits of information, half-truths that put me in hot water. Mom didn't tell me who my dad was so I trashed his little vampire sex bar by mistake. Now, I owe the guy more than six figures in damages and have to play prince in a real life vampire politics RPG." He slammed his hand on the table, staring intently at his ancestor. "What do the Unseelies want with you and is it possible for them to make it to this world?

The man sighed, unaffected by the small outburst. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Too bad, so sad. I'm already involved in this world. "

The fairy lord twirled the iced tea with his straw. "The Unseelie court is full of dark creatures that haven't seen this world in centuries. Fae from a world darker and colder than anything on this plane. They did not approve of our more friendly interactions with humans. They used them as slaves and entertainment, giving no mercy to any race that happened to befall one of them. My father was the one who rid them from this world. It will be I who they come after when their world intercepts my own.

"We have our own forces, but we are much weaker than before. Iron has made many of our women infertile and the population has dwindled to mere hundreds. I have come to this world in search of groups who might help us when the time comes. The Were Council has been most helpful, but other species are much harder to convince.

"Should we fail and the Unseelie make it to Earth, well, I dearly hope humans can survive another ice age."

"Maybe I could help. I'm strong."

Niall crossed his fingers, leaning forward. His eyes were half-lidded, as though he were judging the young man's soul itself. Maybe he was, Bo thought. "I have no doubt you are strong. You lack experience, however. You are young, younger than Sookie was when I first met her. She was a strong, intelligent woman, but even she could make mistakes. You are still in the throes of adolescence and act rashly when facing stronger opponents. Had you not been my descendant when you slammed your hand down so roughly I might have thrown you across the room. Work on your patience. When the time comes, should I need the help, I will come for your aid."

It was a soft letdown, but with enough leeway that the young man wasn't too depressed by the words. They cut deep into his breast. He did act brashly sometimes, letting his emotions rule him. It was a fatal flaw of his.

"I understand… I suppose you want to order something other than iced tea?"

"Actually, I have to attend another meeting. It was lovely talking with you, Bo." He rose and patted him on the back softly. "I would love to meet with you another day. Perhaps over more tea?"

Bo smiled. "I'd like that, Mr. Niall." He raised his hand for a handshake.

"Just Niall to you, child. We are family." He said as he slipped two hundred dollar bills into Bo's open hand.

Great-great-grandparents really were the best.

The last surprise showed up near closing. Most of the staff and customers had dispersed since it was a weekday, leaving only a few alcoholics, Bo, and the owner to wait for the end of the night shift. Midnight loomed in the background, fog settling to the ground outside. Two figures appeared out of the darkness. Mr. Merlotte sent Bo a look. Bo shrugged half-heartedly.

"What can I say? I'm a popular guy."

"You and your mother both. What is it about you that attracts trouble?"

"My dazzling smile and good looks?" He smirked, one eyebrow lifting higher than the other. "Ladies love the whole half-vampire thing, you know."

"What ladies? The only one who gives you the time of day is a sixteen-year-old smurf."

"At least I have a girlfriend."

"At least I've been laid." Mr. Merlotte remarked offhandedly. He pulled out some TrueBlood from a small refrigerator in the corner and placed it inside the microwave. "Would you like some ice for that burn? I'll be in my office for a little while. Make sure none of our customers get eaten."

Bo frowned, slouching. "That's cheating." He muttered under his breath.

Eric Northman appeared like the Battle of Waterloo on Napoleon, dressed casually yet always more stylishly than Bo could ever be. Pam sauntered through the entrance in lavender high-heels, her outfit reminiscent of a certain Mrs. Kennedy. Both of them commanded the attention of the whole room, though with a gaggle of drunks that wasn't too great an accomplishment. Bo pretended to be busy, partially hiding behind the counter in an attempt to avoid them. No such luck. Eric leaned over the worktop, watching him. The son paused, looking up. Their eyes connected for a moment. They were identical in color and shape. Weird, he pondered for a moment.

The microwave beeped. A godsend. He hurried with the TrueBloods, placing them on the tabletop a little roughly. Some blood fell onto the table. Bo felt his extra teeth rip through his gums instantaneously. He cursed and looked away, ashamed. The two vampires simply stared at him, amusement written on their faces. The last group of drunks hurried out the door. Vampires had that effect on people.

"You really need to work on your feeding habits. When was the last time you drank?" Eric asked, his arms crossed as he leaned forward.

"A couple hours ago, actually. The hunger has been getting worse… I think something's wrong with me."

"You're young. Younger humans have larger appetites, yes?" Eric supplied. "Your girlfriend is rather thin. Perhaps her blood is not satisfying you. Sookie was much more… juicy." There was a hint of longing there, but Bo ignored it. He did not want to get into a conversation about how his mom tasted.

"I don't drink from humans, Eric. I told you before."

"TrueBlood will only satisfy so much." Pam remarked dryly. "Stop pussy-footing around. Grow up and drink from the girl."

"Go back to Babylon, Pam."

"Not before you clean my pool, poolboy." She stood up, grabbing him by his shirt. "We need to talk. Now."

"What the hell—" He didn't have time to finish his sentence. She dragged him away from the counter and into the bathroom in five seconds flat.

She pushed him into a corner, holding his arms upward. He had a good foot on her, but she was stronger. He struggled to move away; she was as unmovable as a stone wall.

"Stop this game of yours. I'm tired of it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You are ignoring what I have asked you to do. Pushing Eric away is only going to cause the both of you more pain. More so you, since I would be the one inflicting it."

He froze, his pulse speeding up. The female vampire smiled knowingly.

"He might not look it, but Eric grieves the death of your mother greatly. As king that would be perceived as weakness by other vampires. He is also searching for your mother's killer, though much more discreetly than you. His forces are out there right now in search of the bitch."

Bo turned his head, flushing with embarrassment and guilt. "Just because he's my dad doesn't make things nice and dandy. How do you know he wouldn't just snap my neck if I didn't do what he wanted me to do?"

"If you were my son that would have already happened." Pam said in a matter-of-fact fashion. "Eric is different. He loved Sookie. Really loved her. I had never seen him in that state in all my years. Her death was a huge blow; I fear losing you as well would send him over the edge."

"Over the edge?"

"You know what I mean. Eric loves a lot of things: himself, power, sex, being a vampire. But Sookie changed that. He isn't as sure of himself as he once was. Maybe after a few centuries he would have learned to let go. But then you come into the picture and suddenly he has something no one else has. Part of her and part of him. You are a reminder of that love."

She loosened her hold on his wrists. He didn't move for several moments.

"Even if he is my dad, I don't know how to have a relationship with him. He's not like TV dads or the deadbeat fathers back in New York. He's not even human. I… I don't even know how to have a dad." He confessed. "I just don't want to get hurt."

"Oh, it's not him who will be doing the hurting, I assure you." She fluffed her hair in the mirror, brushing down any loose strands. "Stop acting like a little bitch and do something, brat." She sighed. "You two are incredibly stubborn; it drives me nuts. Go back to the bar. He's got a present for you."

Bo perked up at the last part. "Present?"

She sent him a barely contained look of exasperation. "Go. Now. As in, move your little ass and talk to him." She emphasized this statement by almost throwing him out the door.

Shyly, he made his way back to the bar. Eric was still there, having finished the majority of his beverage. Sitting crossed-legged, the man gazed out the window, as if on autopilot. He switched his attention to Bo when the teen sat down next to him on a barstool.

"Hey." Bo started. God, he felt stupid. What was he supposed to say? He leaned back in the chair, his arms tight against his body. "Um, I heard you have presents."

"Pam told you?" The undead ruler asked, his usual expression slowly falling back into place. "Way to ruin a surprise, Pam." He said as she walked out of the bathroom. "What were the two of you doing in there?" Eric's eyes widened, looking between the two of them. A smirk developed. "Don't tell me you were—"

"He needed lecturing on his manners." Pam said, eyeing the prince and king both. "I'll be outside. I need to speak with one of the security heads."

Bernard squinted, his eyes inspecting the grounds. Sure enough, he caught movement in the darkness hundreds of yards away. Did Eric always have an entourage with him? Or was that because he was a king?

Bo switched his attention to his father, a concept he wasn't sure how to handle. "What did you, ah, get me?"

Out of his coat, the ancient vampire pulled out a book-shaped object and handed it to him. It was about four by six inches and the color blue. Bo opened it to the first page.

"This is... a photo album." He flipped through the pages. "Of mom? Where did you get all these pictures?"

"Some of them were with me. Others were collected by my servants through various means. I know you loved her a lot, but you only knew her after she had you. Sookie was a big part of my life as well."

"Wow, this is… great. Really, really nice of you." Bo's face was bright and truly happy. "This means a lot to me. I'll keep it by my bed."

"I'm glad you like it. I didn't know what to get for a teenager. Pam suggested something sentimental, so I thought of that." The king of Louisiana pulled up one leg to the stool. "How are you doing? Really?"

Bo looked down. "I'm holding on. I miss mom a lot, but that's something I deal with every day."

"I think about her, too, you know." A serious expression crossed the face of the vampire usually known for his joie de vivre. "If you ever want to talk, I'm here."

"Thanks… Eric."

"You are still coming with me tomorrow, however." His eyes were bright and mischievous. "You need to put some meat on your bones. Maybe we can find a snack for you along the way. My bar has plenty."

Bo rolled his eyes. "For the last time, no. I'm, what's the phrase? Oh yeah, mainstreaming."

The man shook his head. "You have a lot to learn, son. Let me tell you a little secret."

"And what's that?"

"Mainstreaming is bullshit. Sooner or later cravings for real blood take over. TrueBlood can only put them off, not eliminate them." His father shrugged, a gesture rather similar to his own. "I'm not going to allow you to piddle-shit around this topic. You're a growing boy. You need the real stuff. I can get that for you."

The teen picked up his father's drink and downed it. "I can survive on my own, thank you very much."

Eric continued, putting his arm around the boy. "It's hard the first few times. I accidentally killed a few myself when I was young. But the taste is exquisite. Your mother's was the best. Like ecstasy in a pretty blonde—"

"Eric."

"Her body was tan and scrumptious, as though the sun had kissed every piece of her skin, from the top of her head to that soft, moist—"

"Attention: Mental scarring imminent. Please shut up." Bo groaned. "You're not even listening to me, are you?"

The man tapped him on the head. "It's adorable how innocent you are."

"It's annoying how intrusive you are."

"You'll learn to accept that. It's a lovable trait of mine." Eric got up from his chair. Bo felt like a bug in comparison. The man was huge. "I have things to attend to."

"Really? So soon?"

"Do you not want me to leave?" The king grinned again. "You're much less cold to me than earlier. Have I warmed my way into your heart?"

"More like a stake into a vampire." He jumped over the tabletop in one single leap. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Eric."

"Driving the stake in deep, are you?" His father looked satisfied, as though he'd won something.

"You'll heal."

The lord of Louisiana and all her undead inhabitants waved goodbye, even as he vanished into the parking lot. Bo waited a few moments before muttering something no one else would hear.

"Thanks, dad."


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

**Sorry for being so late with this chapter. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! Wandersfar is as always a totally freaking awesome Beta. This chapter isn't as long as the others but I promise you the next one will be! Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>Chapter 25<p>

Eric was waiting for him when he arrived.

The location caught Bo off-guard. Though the park lay only a few miles outside of Shreveport, it was a good hundred acres of land untouched by society, save for one or two bike paths that ran circularly around its perimeter. The playground and pavilion were in desperate need of a paint job from what he could see. In a bizarre way, Bo was reminded of his home, a work in progress that still hadn't progressed past the haunted house stage. The sky was full of stars, providing light to the otherwise pitch-black darkness. His eyes traveled towards the moon, a slice of its regular full self.

Bo didn't know what to wear that night, so he showed up in a faded gray shirt and jeans that had seen better days. His hair was still slightly wet from a shower earlier that night. The young male worked the tables from lunch til the late afternoon that day, only coming home to wash up and throw out the trash before running here. The smell of the woods and a touch of kitchen grease clung to his skin. A slight whisper of soft footsteps met his ears. Turning around, the half-human eyed his companion for the night.

The king leaned toward sleeker attire, a black turtleneck with matching leather pants. An intricate braid traveled from the base of his neck down, a sleek look only someone like Eric could pull off.

A faint breeze passed by, tickling the hairs on Bo's arms. He shivered. He crossed over the tall grass, settling a yard or two away from his father. Hands in his pockets, he stood awkwardly in anticipation. Eric had a duffel bag next to him, brand new if the tag was any indication.

"Of all the outfits to pick, you chose that one?" The king sighed, "We need to take you shopping. You have your mother's fashion sense."

Bo rolled his eyes. "Coming from the Bond villain who wears Viking helmets, I think I'll take my chances."

"I can wear whatever I want and pull it off." Eric said, his lips curling upward. "No need to get jealous. I could teach you."

"Let's cut to the chase, Eric. What are you doing out here? I thought you said there was some vampire meeting we had to go to."

"We do, but that's not until later. I wanted to get to know you better." He opened up the bag. "My human accountant suggested I take you out for a game of catch. He said it was a good father-son bonding experience."

Bo shook his head, a blend of bemusement and puzzlement crossing his features. "A game of catch? Eric, I'm seventeen. Don't you think that's a little childish?"

"Ah, you would think so, wouldn't you." He pulled out several objects, some of which the teen had never seen before. "But then I thought about it. How far could you throw? How fast could you run? I want to test that, too. How does a dhampir compare to a vampire?"

It was Bo's turn to grin. "Alright. I'm intrigued. Never had someone clock in my times before."

"Oh, it won't just be a race against the clock. You'll compete against me as well."

A challenge then. He could feel his heart rate rise, excitement filling him. He never got to do P.E. assessments back when he was a kid; his mother claimed asthma as an excuse for the school nurses. Cracking his knuckles, the dhampir felt almost giddy. Finally, something fun.

The vampire raised both eyebrows, noticing his son's change in demeanor. "How about a warm-up first? A race to the other side of the park. I'll even give you a ten second head start."

"You sure you can handle me, old man? I don't want to stop halfway for you to catch up." The boy was proud of his running. It was one of his favorite activities. He stretched each leg and jumped up and down, warming up his muscles.

"Cocky, are we? I don't think you'll be acting that way when I'm waiting for you at the finish line."

"Big talk for an ancient geezer. Sure you don't want to sit on a bench while I run laps like Usain Bolt around your ass?"

The man laughed heartily, amused by his son's words. "This side of you is hilarious. I'd hate to crush your self-confidence, but I won't let 'geezer' slide. Let me start the time on my phone."

The son crouched down, copying athletes he'd seen in the Olympics. His blood sizzled with eagerness and perhaps a smidge of apprehension. Making it to the other side of the grounds would take only a couple minutes, the foliage and darkness were his only obstacles. Their finish line rested in the parking lot on that side, an easy place to spot. He could feel the tips of his fangs poking out of their hiding place. The dull pain only fueled his adrenaline rush. Bo waited, breathing in and out slowly.

He still wasn't sure how he felt about the vampire he had for a parental figure. Eric wasn't what he pictured as his father. He was arrogant, manipulative, and a whole mess of things Bo wasn't sure how to deal with yet.

Nevertheless, no matter how much he disliked it, the man was sort of growing on him. His absolute frankness and confidence in himself, the latter a trait Bo severely envied, made him approachable, likable even. It was unlikely they would ever have a conventional father-son relationship. Bo felt he was too old and Eric was too... Eric. He had promised he would work on it however, and Bo hated breaking promises.

Eric placed two fingers inside his mouth and whistled. The teen already disappeared into the forest before the man could finish.

Dodge, run, jump. Repeat. The movements started as awkward, but slowly lessened as the seconds passed by. He enjoyed the feel of the grass and tree roots against his feet, how the leaves shuddered as he raced past them. For the first time in a long while, he felt liberated. The longer he ran, the more elaborate his moves became. Bo pushed off a tree trunk and twisted in mid-air, enjoying the sensation of weightlessness. Parkour had nothing on him.

His eyes adjusted to the near blackness as they always did, the objects in front of him becoming more defined as he raced on. The whistling wind and the beat of his heart played loudly in his skull. This was his element. Front flipping over a fallen tree, he could almost see the end of the small forest.

Behind him, another pair of legs was catching up. Shit! The boy quickened his pace nervously. They were getting louder and louder. He hurried to get to the end, pumping his legs and widening his stride.

They were side by side as they broke out into the open air. The parking lot was in sight.

The Louisianan ruler increased his pace, not even breaking a sweat. Could vampires even sweat? They didn't breathe. While not completely out of breath the boy was certainly sweating. Bo pumped harder, his heart moving at an impossible speed.

The man inched farther and farther away. Dammit! The halfling was trailing as they reached the end. He was only a few feet from the other man, yet the distance felt like a mile. It wasn't a surprise whose foot touched asphalt first.

"Three minutes and five seconds." The ancient man counted, stopping the clock. He turned to his son. "What was that about a geezer?"

Bernard was breathing hard now, his adrenaline rush crashing. "How?" Was all he could say.

"You're a lot shorter and I'm a lot older. Not that you did badly." The king showed him the clock. "I'm proud. You did excellent for someone your age, even by my kind's standards."

"But... I lost." The teen said, spitting out some of his saliva.

"You were bound to lose, no offense. I'm over a thousand years old and have a hell of a lot more experience." He patted the boy's back, nearly making the teen tumble over. "Don't let it get to you."

"Still." Bo regained his balance and kicked the gravel. "Kind of sucks."

"Would you rather it have been Pam who kicked your ass?"

"Good point. What's next on your agenda?"

They went through an obstacle of exercises, the majority dealing with strength and endurance. Bo was surprised by how much he could do, how far he could push his body. The local boy scouts who would camp in months to come would wonder how so many trees were uprooted, but for now Bo was actually enjoying himself. Nonetheless, he would never admit it to Eric.

"You call that a throw?" The monarch hollered from more than a football field away. "Mailing it would be faster than that swing."

The teen caught the spherical object just in time. To the human eye the ball was moving at a near impossible speed, well above the average professional's game. He tossed the ball up and down, picturing his target. It had taken half an hour and two lost baseballs before they established a rhythm.

"I'm sorry, what was that? I was too busy not throwing the ball way outfield like a certain someone did the first time."

"It's not my fault you can't catch." The elder male crossed him arms, waiting. "Did they not teach you as a child?"

"Bitch, please. I'm from New York City. Baseball is in my blood, body and mind, and the Mets are my religion.

"If the Mets are your religion than I suggest you convert, because they suck."

Bo's anger flared. Nobody insulted his favorite team. "What'd you say, Eurotrash? I dare you to say that again."

He grinned, his blue eyes burning even in the dark of night. "I said—"

Too late. The dhampir caught him mid-sentence. Unfortunately, the anger-fuelled throw flew slightly upwards. A forehead shot never sounded so loud. The thump practically moved the forest.

He was down. Bo watched and laughed.

One second. Five seconds. Half a minute. Bo's satisfaction slowly dissipated. He trotted over to the man, unsure of the damage. He bit his lip. There was blood, and lots of it. The ball had left a nice-sized dent as well. His father wasn't moving. Shit.

He tried shaking him; there was no reaction. The teen began to panic. Oh god, he thought, I killed my own father. He could feel a burning sensation throughout his entire body, the same feeling when he discovered his mother's burnt corpse.

Not again. Not again. He chanted the words over and over in his mind. His peripheral vision blurred. Bo clutched his head, trying to contain his fear.

Next would be the numbness, the sensation of autopilot, as though he was just a spectator to the event. Then the funerals, the burial, the aftermaths: an entire list of things he never wanted to repeat. Pam would surely kill him before it was all over. Not that it would matter. Remorse would have eaten away anything left of him.

He could feel his lungs constrict, unable to breath. Hyperventilation slowly inched it's way inside the corners of his lungs. What was he supposed to do?

His mind traveled back to high school. What had he learned in health class again? The son put his hands on his father's chest, pushing for air. That was supposed to help, right?

"Come on dad, don't die. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please don't go. Please, dammit. I don't want to lose you, too." Tears threatened to overflow his eyes.

A faint whisper in the wind. He strained his ear to catch what it was.

"Blood..."

Bernard Stackhouse screamed like a girl for four full seconds before he gathered his wits again. His father was alive, sort of. Relief filled him.

He looked around. Where was he supposed to get human blood? The vampire's car was parked miles away and Bo's directional abilities were less than stellar. He didn't see any of the man's entourage either. Did they not come with him everywhere? Were they on break? The vampire king tried to open his eyes, but they were covered in blood and possibly damaged. Part of his nose had been crushed by the impact as well. Holy shit. Bo's strength really was dangerous. The thought sent waves of hot anxiety into his stomach; he could kill someone if he wasn't careful.

"Blood." Repeated Eric, this time with more force.

No one else was around for help. Did dhampir blood work for vampires? He hoped so. Placing his wrist near the man's mouth, the piercing of teeth and a quick, sharp pain followed. The sound of sucking both relieved and horrified the halfling; he was reassured that the man was alive, yet appalled by the noise and inhumanity of it. He felt like a human juice box.

"Your throw..."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hit you like that." He stuttered over his words. "Well, I mean, I wanted to hit you, but not that hard. I wasn't intentionally aiming for your face. Actually, no I was sort of aiming for it, but I didn't mean to do this much damage. Please, don't hate me."

"...Was impressive..."

"Oh my god." Bo stated with a horrified look on his face. "You're delusional. Pam is going to murder me. No, that would probably be too nice of her. Pam is going to torture me and then kill me. Oh god. How am I going to fix this?"

The king struggled to sit up. Besides the healing wound, the man looked like his usual self. "Calm down, Bo, I'm alive. Your throw has improved. I didn't see it coming until it was too late. You are one sly little bastard, you know that?"

"We need to get you to a doctor. Let me get my phone and—"

The king grasped his shoulder, pushing him back to the ground. "I. Am. Fine. Your blood is healing me."

"It is?" The numbness in Bo's legs began to fade. His raised his eyebrows. "My blood works on vampires?"

"It's not exactly as filling as human blood, but it will be enough to heal my wounds." Bo blanched at the sight of the man licking his lips. "You truly are one of a kind."

"Gee, thanks. I'm glad I'm so delicious." He commented dryly. "Does this mean we're done now?"

"With this? Definitely. We're running behind anyway."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Everything is fine. I have some TrueBlood in the car." The king replied, shaking his head.

He began licking the blood off his face, a move which made Bo hungry. He really needed to get a grip on this hunger issue. Bo finished the last TrueBlood in his house earlier that day and the boy was once again wanting more. He watched a few droplets slide down the king's features, trickling down the edges of his face before falling onto the wet grassy plain. They seemed to move with the pulse of the boy's own heart, turning corners every time he breathed. Bo fixated on the texture of the drops, their surfaces were so smooth. Was vampire blood cold or hot? He wondered what it tasted like...

"I suppose you want some, too?"

The teen blinked, coming back to the scene before him. "What?"

"You've been staring at me like a steak for a minute or so now."

"Thanks, but I'm fine." The dhampir switched his focus to his shoes, uncomfortable with facing the man again. Eric tossed him a dubious look, but he didn't press the issue. "Where to next, then?"

Eric gave him a once-over. The expression on his face was less than enthusiastic. "First and foremost, you aren't going to a high council meeting in that getup. You are fortunate to have a father who prepares for things like this. I had one of my day workers buy you some clothes."

"Thanks for the offer, but—"

"You are going to wear the Armani suit and you are going to like it." Eric dusted the invisible grime off his body as he rose to his feet. "No Bo-bitching about this one, son."

"Bo-bitching?"

The man's visage brightened. "It's perfect, isn't it? Pam made it up. She is my most creative child."

"Then what does that make me?"

Eric patted his head lightly. "My most adorable."

"I am not a dog, Eric." The son replied, a frown making its way across his lips.

"You're right. Dogs actually obey their masters and don't destroy expensive bars."

"I think most dogs would agree that some bars, especially ones with tacky names and horrendous interior decorating, are better waterlogged than open."

"You really are a spiteful little creature, aren't you?"

"I got it from my folks."

"Must be the mother's side of the family."

Bo laughed, a genuine smile reaching his lips. "Nah, I think it's my father's side. Pretty fucked up, that one. The dude is old as shit and still wears leather pants."

"And I'm sure he wears them fabulously."

Bo copied the man's eye scan. "Well... He can try."

"You really do enjoy insulting me, don't you?"

Bo cocked his head to the side, eyes wide and innocent. "Who? Me? No..."

"I suppose you'll be riding in the back of my car, then."

"Those pants look totally amazing and not at all gay, sir."

"Close enough, I suppose."


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

**Sorry I have been so absent. College is a huge drain. A big thank you to my Beta Wandersfar for taking time out of her busy schedule to help me with this. I've already finished a few more chapters, so hopefully I can get the others out in the upcoming weeks as well. Thank you all for the lovely reviews as well. I hope this chapter is okay. There will be more action in the upcoming chapters also. Hope you enjoy! Sorry for the delay!**

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><p>Chapter 26<p>

Bo tugged at the cufflink of the suit.

The outfit was definitely not something he could afford on his salary. A lined ebony jacket with a lapel collar and matching pants molded to his body nicely. The white button-up shirt and dark oxfords only accentuated the well-made quality of the ensemble. On the downside, his pale flesh appeared but a scant few shades apart from his shirt color. He could have passed for an old black and white photo, if it weren't for his eyes.

"Stop fiddling with your clothes. You look fine."

"I _look_ weird." The teen lay back into the leather seat, focusing anywhere other than on the man driving. Tonight they were riding in the Corvette, one of many automobiles Eric held in his possession. "Why can't I just wear jeans and a t-shirt?"

"You need to look presentable. No one will take you seriously if you come in looking like you usually do. Our meeting with the council is critical. It'll be your first official appearance, and first impressions are important."

"What are we going to do at this vampire council anyway?" The teen remarked.

"My announcement has caused some disturbances within our community. You are an oddity amongst our kind. This meeting will serve to establish your position."

"What is this 'Prince of Louisiana' thing gonna be like?" Bo gestured quotations around the title with his fingers.

"I'm still working on that, actually. It's mostly symbolic at this point."

"So you just made it up on a whim that night?"

"Pretty much." The thousand year old vampire smiled in the darkness. "You refuse to live with me and a murderous witch is out for your head. What would you have done in my situation?"

"That doesn't change the fact that I'm going in as a sheep into a den of wolves, Eric."

"If anything, you're a wolf in sheep's clothing."

"Still, I don't have much going for me. I'm a 'prince' on paper but a busboy in real life."

"Sookie lived through far worse circumstances. If she can do it, so can you." The man's lips tightened and his shoulders sagged slightly, as they always did when he mentioned her name.

"You okay, man?"

"Besides Pam, you're the only one I can talk to about her. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, and losing her was one of them," he admitted. "What was she like in the years that I missed?"

The only son of Sookie sighed deeply, feeling all kinds of emotions he usually preferred to ignore. What should he say?

"Well, first and foremost, she is—was my mom. I never knew her as a telepathic barmaid or a friend of a were-pack or anything else. She loved going to the beach to tan and reading mystery novels. She would be there for people, like when one of the waitresses was pregnant or when I got in trouble and needed help. She always went to parent-teacher meetings, even if it interfered with her work schedule. From the time I was born unto the day of her death, she was just my mom."

"She sounds very similar to the Sookie I used to know."

"Please. Mom was way more daring in her youth from what I've heard. Dating vampires? Saving lives?" Bo pointed out.

"Staking vampires, killing Weres and fairies…" The driver supplied offhandedly.

"See? At least you got to see the badass side of her. She was super protective of me all the time. Wouldn't even let me spend the night at my friends' houses for fear I might do something stupid or get myself in trouble. Or both." How ironic that her actions to protect him from danger only made him more valuable to everything around him.

"I wish I'd had the chance to know her as a mother. All I have is memories of her past with me."

The partially undead teenager scratched his head, unsure of how to respond. "Maybe we could, you know, share our memories of her sometime."

"I would like that."

He shuffled his feet, ready to change the subject. "What's going to happen after the whole vampire orientation session?"

"There might be talks of tariff agreements and vampire politics. Upcoming assemblies and important court trials could also be on the agenda. Have you heard about the VI Act?"

"A little. Something to do with families and inheritance?"

"Yes. It's to allow vampires the right to inherit from their human families. As usual, the politicians are raising hell."

"That's big in vampire politics right now?"

"Along with other issues. Adoption, voting, health care: anything lawyers can sue the government for. The mainstreamers are fighting tooth and nail with the religious groups in Washington."

"You seem to know a lot about politics."

"I am King," he replied, "When I was a Sheriff I tried to stay out of most of the bullshit of the upper parties, and just govern my own territory."

"What made you change?"

There was a noticeable change in Eric's demeanor. His normal cool exterior seemed to crack a little, eyes full of fiery emotion. "I suppose you can say I fucked up. I was forced into a loveless political marriage with another vampire which didn't last. I thought I could wing it, but I craved my old lover too much. Never fall in love, Bo; it does things to you. When I came back Sookie was gone and Louisiana was still in the uneasy state it was before. Felipe had his fangs in far to many pies honestly, so it was no surprise he got offed.

"Life without her was unbearable sometimes. I wish I had apologized, done something to patch up our relationship before it all fell apart. Damn, I was a fucking idiot. I preoccupied myself with politics in the meantime, to fill up the void. I knew in order for our kind to survive that we needed someone who could actually enforce their rule with their own power, since anyone else in Louisiana was under-qualified. So, after some political maneuvering, I worked my way onto the ballot. I never forgot Sookie though. She still haunts my dreams, even today."

Bo nodded, hands clenched. "She exists in mine too. It feels like I'm suffocating sometimes, without her here."

"I know the feeling."

The father and son looked at each other, an understanding arising from their mutual grief.

They broke off eye contact not long after. Eric smirked, shoulders relaxing.

"I think the best part out of winning was Bill's expression afterward. I really should have taken a picture. His face was fucking priceless."

Settling back into comfortable mood, Eric turned on the radio to a random station. Even as politically illiterate as Bo was, he knew the pool Eric played in was dangerous and deep; a much more inhuman version of politics that only the undead played. Human trafficking, vampire wars in South America, illegal fight clubs where the undead fought other supes: anyone with access to a newspaper or the internet had some inkling of things.

The ruler's phone dinged. The screen lit up, but Bo didn't have time to look at it before the older man read and sent a follow up text to whomever it was.

"Shit, change in plans." Eric declared. "Buckle up. Someone started a fire at one of my apartment complexes. Half of my tenants are vampires and we all burn rather easily.

"I can understand. Whenever I'm out in the sun without sunscreen I burn worse than a ginger."

"That's actually something that has been nagging me actually. You're half and yet you can walk during the daytime. How are you able to survive?"

"Well, Niall said-"

The Viking vampire almost stopped the car, jolting the teenager out of his former position. "You've talked with Niall? He was here? When?"

"Let me finish my sentence! He said it might have to do with the whole fairy blood thing. Of course, that was only a possibility. I'm not comfortable being out in the sun for very long. I usually put on sunscreen and shades if I'm outside for more than an hour. Thirty minutes is usually my limit without either, otherwise I sunburn worse than a ginger."

"Alright, but that doesn't answer my other question. When did you talk with Niall, and how the hell did he get to this world if he's supposed to be in Faery?" He paused, contemplating something. "I thought you smelled different, but I assumed it was just the protection magic shit."

"We talked last night, before you and Pam came. It wasn't long after the werewolves visited me."

Eric brought the car to a complete halt this time. His body language changed completely. There was a fire in his father's eyes that hadn't been there before, though whether it was directed at him or someone else was up in the air. "What did the mutts want with you? Did they try to hurt you?"

"No, not really. They warned me and told me some other stuff, but it wasn't too bad. Alcide gave me a little more—"

"Alcide and his pack tried to threaten you?" The man's spine curved inward, as though trying to contain his anger. "That fucking dog. If he approaches you again, tell me. They had no right to be there. You're off limits and they fucking know that.

Bo raised an eyebrow. The car moved forward, pulling back onto the main road again.

"He had no right to come into that bar and try to intimidate you. He is not allowed to touch what is mine."

The teen displayed a fusion of disbelief and indignation. "_Yours_? Sorry bucko, but I don't belong to nobody."

"You're my son. My kin. Just as Pam is my child, so are you. I don't like it when people threaten my family." His gaze softened slightly, though he was still miffed about the werewolves' unexpected visit. "It's only out of wanting to protect you. Don't take it the wrong way."

"Oh. Ah, sorry. I guess, um," The teen peered out the side window, his reflection in the glass uncomfortable. "I can understand the whole protecting family and stuff. It's just, I suppose you can probably say I'm not used to it. Outside of mom and I, there wasn't anyone else to turn to. Now mom's gone, and it makes me so frustrated sometimes. She was my support system. She was my family. When she died I suddenly had all these other family members I never knew, and then there's you."

His angry expression disappeared, followed by a more curious one. "Me?"

"I've always known I wasn't like other people, but I didn't want to acknowledge it. Not to myself, not to anyone. I just tried to repress it. Then, bam! A guy I thought wanted my head stuffed and mounted is my own father. And you're completely different than what I imagined a dad to be."

"What did you expect?"

"Oh, I don't know. A normal guy who likes the same things I do, maybe has the same personality quirks. Someone who works a nine-to-five job, like a restaurant manager or an office worker."

"Sookie would never date a man like that." Eric responded, smiling. "She would never admit it, but she always loved men who flirted with danger."

The teen rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "I'll agree with you there."

"Well, while I may not be a normal man," The king started, "I do think we share some similarities."

"Like what?"

"Hair and eye color for one. You've also got my jawline."

The half-vampire rubbed his chin subconsciously. "I guess. Dermot said I looked nearly identical to his brother though."

"We're both honest about our feelings. We're practical, and we love our freedom in this world. Perhaps we're more stubborn than most, though Sookie had us beat."

Bo put on a face of mock-disbelief. "No. Us? Stubborn? Never."

"I concur. We are far above that."

Bo gestured into the air, amusement starting to show on his features. "I prefer justifiably unyielding to the crooked desires of others."

"Justifiably unyielding." The older man let out a hearty laugh. "I like that. Mind if I use it?"

"Go right ahead, big man. It's all yours."

"You're not so bad, Bo. When I first met you, I wasn't sure what to think."

"I thought you were an evil asshole before I met you in person."

"And now?"

"You're still an asshole, but you've got your good qualities."

"I'm so glad you hold me in such high regard." Eric remarked dryly. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree though, Bo-bear."

He spun his head to the left so quickly his neck cracked. Dread and shock were equally in attendance. "How . . . how do you know that nickname?"

"Word travels fast." Eric let out a restrained half-snort half-laugh.

"It's not funny."

"Yes it is." He snuck a glance at the teen. "It's fucking hilarious. Oh, don't give me that face. I'll stop."

"Thank you."

"Would Bo-Bo like a happy meal before we arrive at our destination?"

"I am going to kill you with the closest utensil I can find then drive it up your ass."

"I have a fork in the back. Will that work?"

The teen pressed his head against the window. "I will never ride in a car with you ever again, Eric. Ever."

"I highly doubt that, Bo." He crinkled his nose. "Why do you even go by that nickname? You don't exactly look like a Bo."

"Don't look at me. Mom was the one who started calling me that. Besides, do I really look like a Bernard to you?"

"I would have named you Leif."

It took him a moment to process the statement. "Wait, so Bo isn't good but naming me after a plant part is A-Okay? You be smoking too much Mary Jane, Eric."

"It is Old Norse and you are pronouncing it wrong."

"Who cares?"

"I do, since I'm going to teach it to you someday."

"Dude, I suck at languages. I couldn't even do Spanish. What makes you think I'm going to learn some useless dead language during my free time?"

"You should broaden your horizons. There are places other than New York and Louisiana."

"Every time I do that I nearly get killed."

"You won't be killed, Bo. Not while I'm around."

He gazed out into the illuminated streets, a flash of uneasiness passing across his mug. "If only things were so simple."

Eric checked his phone again and cursed. "The damn fire spread to another apartment. Those idiots can't do anything right. Hold on, I'm taking a shortcut."

Gray and brown were the main colors of the complex, along with various blue accents on the windows of the housing. It wasn't a large building by any means, nevertheless there was a hint of sophistication about it. By daytime it would likely appear inconspicuous and unassuming. Night presented landscape lighting and an outside bar blaring out a weird techno-classical song that may or may not have been a remix of Beethoven's Ninth. Other than a large crowd of irritated people outside, there didn't appear any indication of fire. There were two police cars and a fire truck at the front of the facility however, so something must have set an alarm off. The appointed monarch stepped out of the vehicle first, trailed by the teen.

"Stay in the car, Bo."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"That's not a good reason."

"It wasn't a reason, it was an order. I need to check something out first."

"That's not fair. Aren't I the 'Prince of Louisiana'? Don't I get a say in anything around here?"

"And as the King of Louisiana I order you to stay in the car."

"And what if the car gets stolen? Do I stay in the car then, too?"

"Do you ever stop bitching?"

He opened his arms out wide, mocking him. "Welcome to parenthood, Mr. Northman."

The ruler of the swamp ran his fingers through his locks, perhaps trying to keep himself from smacking the stupid boy upside the head. "Then as your parent I say to stay in the fucking car."

"But—"

"Stay. In. The. Fucking. Car."

Bo crossed his arms. He watched his father walk into the distance. When he entered the building, the teen unlocked his door. The cool air outside greeted him like an old friend. He leaned against the automobile, biting the inside of his cheek.

Like hell he'd just stand around. He wasn't a little kid anymore. Something was up. Silently, the dhampir scanned the area, checking out the sights. Nearly every car in the vicinity was brand new or remodeled. Where did vampires get all this money anyway?

Probably the black market, he reasoned. V was an expensive drug and money was money, no matter what species one may be. Who would have thought vampire blood could have those capabilities. And what about his own? He healed faster and hit harder than most, but did that transfer over to his blood like the vampires?

No, that was impossible. Eric said he didn't taste any different from a human, so it was possible the properties of his blood were different than a vampire's. Of course, this was all speculation on his part. Vampire physiology did not fall into his realm of expertise.

Sliding to the concrete, he rested his head in his palms. God this was boring, he thought. A little over a month ago he was just plain old Bo Stackhouse. Now he was some prince elected by the king for who knows what ends. He wasn't like his mother, the infamous mind reader. Other than some restaurant experience and an eleventh grade education he didn't have any talents. He couldn't draw, sing, or play any instruments. A little Taekwondo from middle school maybe, if a yellow belt counted.

Maybe he should take up another martial arts class. Learning to play a guitar wasn't a bad idea either. Chicks loved stuff like that. Perhaps he could play for Rose one day.

Rose. God, she was really starting to grow on him. She'd come to visit him after school ended that afternoon. They'd talked about her first few days of classes, her narrative was humorous and insightful. She was so full of energy and mischief. He enjoyed spending time with her, which amazed him. Other than his first crush, he had never felt this way about a girl before. Their relationship was probably more slow-going than someone like Eric would have liked. For him though, he just enjoyed getting to know her. Of course, their shared kisses in between his breaks were a nice plus.

His nose twitched. Something burning reached his nostrils. Amazingly, it smelled exactly like his mom's barbecue ribs, the kind she made on his birthdays. Likely, some of the human tenants were having themselves a BBQ while the investigation went along. The teenager's stomach clenched, ravenously hungry. His extra incisors were already half-way out on the ride over. Even now they felt weird, a part of him, yet at the same time foreign and difficult to handle. The aroma became more pronounced, sending his senses into a frenzy.

Rising from his spot, he followed the scent. It wasn't very far; the smell came from the farthest edge of the parking lot. He stepped onto the grass, interested in what someone might be cooking. A sliver of smoke appeared to his right, catching him off-guard. His eyes followed it down to the ground.

It was a jar of incense. Motherfucking barbecue scented incense. Who would sell barbecue incense, he thought.

The blinding lights of an SUV hit his vision, followed by something hitting his head. The thump echoed. Stumbling, he touched the back of his skull. It was wet. Weird, he pondered as he fell to his knees.

Without meaning to, his eyes slowly shut themselves.

The moment he opened them everything was dark.

His head throbbed, needles piercing every inch of it. He tried to move his lips, but all he did was drool onto the carpeted ground. No, not ground, he contemplated, it was a floor of something.

The floor shifted, or at least it felt like it did. His ears picked up country music and the sound of tires rolling against soft gravel. He was in a car. Why was he in a car? He tried to move his limbs; all they did was flop around like a fish on land. Other than the scorching hot pain emanating from his skull, the rest of his body felt oddly numb. He flipped to his right and hit something.

"Shut the fuck up back there, freak!"

It took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts.

Holy motherfucking fuck, he realized.

He was being kidnapped.

Time stretched on. Slowly, he regained feeling in his feet. Pissed off, Bo kicked the trunk, popping it open instantly. The vehicle rolled to a stop. Feet crunched against grass.

His kidnappers were not the best lookers in the world. The three men and one woman were all ragged in some fashion. A wild look in the largest male's eyes made him want to lurch away. These people were addicts. The rotten teeth and gaunt skin were clear indicators of that.

His gaze switched to the female, the shortest of all of them. She didn't appear as off as the other men, her hair was brushed and her clothes were only partially wrinkled. Brunette and slender, she looked like any college co-ed, though one who had faced multiple final exams and several sleepless nights in study. Her eyes were cold and bottomless, the energy around her heavy. A moment passed before he put the ideas in his head together.

"You. Fucking. Bitch."

"Hello, Mr. Stackhouse," Tina began. He couldn't read her expression. Only her dark eyes expressed any emotion, which from his view were none too pleasant. Her entire aura reeked of death. This wasn't just a vengeful girl; she was a psychopath. "You were surprisingly easy to capture. If I had known, I would have killed you sooner."

An animalistic growl arose in the back of his throat. "Fuck you, you demented cunt."

A slap resounded. His cheek burned like fire.

"Strong words coming from someone with no power here." She gestured to the three males behind her. "Bring him inside."

The area around them was surrounded by woods. A broken down trailer and rusted over shed were the only man-made buildings in the yard. The kidnappers picked him up and brought him toward the old shack to the right of the once mobile house. He struggled along the way, his body still overcome with whatever they had used. The male to his side slapped him, his anger evident.

"Little tick won't stop moving. We got any more of them drugs she gave him?"

"In the trailer probably. I'll go get them," one of them remarked. "Did Jerry get the twelve-pack like we asked?"

"Who knows. All I want is some fucking V." The asshole's eyes flashed gold. Werewolves. These were the motherfuckers Alcide told him about.

The inside wasn't exactly spacious. Soft country music droned in the background. Four more Weres were squatting in the corner playing a round of poker over vials of blood. Another, a female werewolf, was sprawled against a thin cot with a fazed out look on her face. Werewolf V addicts. Great.

A small curtain blanketed a portion of the shack. Behind the obstruction was what really shocked him. On the other side of the drape sat a man in tattered clothes, chained to a metal post. He looked like a burn victim, with claw marks racking his visage. Blackened, flaky flesh covered the right side of his body, the other side burnt but healing quickly. Part of his left ear appeared chewed off. Suspicious eyes squinted in the dim light at him. Like him, the older man also had fangs.

Dumped unceremoniously onto the ground next to the vampire, he gazed up in curiosity. "Who're you?"

"Who indeed."

"Are you their V supplier?" Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Vampires were generally a close-knit community, which meant only one thing. His mind traveled back to the time at the police station and after that, the night he spent beside Bill's burning home. "It's you! You're the missing guy Eric was looking for before. One of his employees, right? Why are you here?"

"The same reason you are."

"He's been a very, very bad man. He's to serve out his punishment," Tina McCoy interrupted.

"No one deserves to be tortured," Bo retorted with anger.

"Sinners will never learn if they are not handled correctly. It is only us righteous who can deal out the punishment you and he so rightly deserve." She pulled him upright to lean on a pole then used one of the chains from the vampire to tie around his waist and arms, locking him in place. Bo glared back at her.

Great. A self-righteous psycho. Just what he needed, he thought.

"I've never done anything to you. What have I got to do with any of this?"

"Why don't you ask Mr. Helms?" She pulled on the chains around the other man, who flinched accordingly. The smell of sizzling flesh met his nostrils. They were made of silver, or at least coated with it. "Tell him how you killed my friends and family."

"Tina and her group were part of an extremist coven." He said, getting a swift kick to the ribs as a result. "We considered them a threat. Your mother was involved in getting intelligence off of them. We posed as a fortune telling shop in the operation, to get them to trust us."

"Cia's fortune telling." He dug deep into his brain, gears moving. "_Cia_'s. C.I.A. Mom was working for the C.I.A."

How could he not have seen it?

"In a way," Mr. Helms strained against the chains, his skin sunken and scabbed over. "We promised money and she needed it. No one expected anyone to survive the raid. That's when the killings started."

"Retribution." The witch said, her eyes wide and feverish. Whatever humanity was left had long vacated the woman's body. "Everyone I knew. Everyone I trusted. Gone. And it was all your fault. All your fault. All your fault…"

There was a dark look on her face as she repeated the same words, the sounds slowly turning into mumbles. She turned, exiting swiftly from the shack.

"Is she gone?" The undead captive asked.

"For now, I think."

"I'm so sorry. For everything."

"Why? It's not like you've done anything to me."

"No, I have. The CIA didn't want any evidence to come out. Vampires, Weres, witches . . .your mother; our sub-sector was created to take care of cases like these, quietly. When members of the team started going missing the CIA took notice and ordered me to follow you down here. I moved to Shreveport a few days before your arrival and got a job at Fangtasia. When I gained their trust I sent one of their errand runners after you. When that didn't work, I directed one of my own agents to finish the job."

"The polar bear guy was you?"

"Yes. You were scheduled to be eliminated before the King of Louisiana found out about you. I'm surprised you survived."

"You guys knew Eric was my dad." He looked up at the ceiling. "What else do you know about me?"

"Everything we could get our hands on. Some files were inaccessible, however."

The half-human teen shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips. "Looks like Mr. Compton is handy for something."

"I've heard of him. He wrote that data program, yes?"

"Hell if I know. How old are you exactly?"

"Human years or vampire?"

"When were you born?"

"Somewhere in Virginia in the eighteenth century."

"Jesus. How'd a guy like you get caught by a girl like her?"

"She burned down my apartment during the daytime."

He glanced at the extra-crispy leg of his counterpart. "How did that happen exactly?"

"She is proficient with fire."

"Are all witches like that?"

"No, most are relatively harmless, or at least do not try to be bothersome. She, however, is one of the most unstable witches I've ever encountered. She can cast from a good amount of distance too, especially if she channels through that talisman of hers. I've heard she can also make people combust."

"Why didn't she just blow me up when she had the chance?"

"There aren't many spells out there designed specifically for halflings I guess. Spells can have dangerous consequences if done wrong. Or maybe she wanted a slow torturous death for you instead of a short one."

His brain weaved in the pieces of new information with the old. It was she who burnt down Mr. Compton's house and caused a fire at Eric's apartment complex. They weren't simply coincidences. She was targeting him. The burnt corpses were messages to him and the covens nearby.

"What kind of coven did they have that the CIA had to get involved?"

"They worshiped some obscure goddess that requires human sacrifices. No one knows what religion the deity comes from. They were reportedly selling illegal substances to supes on the black market, dangerous items if they got into the wrong hands. The group was started by some new age couple with a lot of money. Their daughter was Tina McCoy."

"So you guys went in and killed them?"

"Yes, and their followers. They were going to sacrifice some kid on the full moon; we had to strike then. It was the most opportune moment. We didn't think we had missed anyone." He said this with no emotion, as if it were a conversation about the weather. It made Bo even more uncomfortable, if that were possible.

"So that's it? This is all because of something my mom was only moderately involved in, yet that rolls on to me? God damn. Why are you even telling me all this?"

"I felt it best to clear my conscience before I go. I apologize for putting your life in danger. It wasn't supposed to end this way."

"End this way?" He flopped around, trying to regain control of his limbs. Bo was strong. He could easily break his bonds if his body weren't so incapacitated.

"My time is almost up. I will be drained of blood by the end of the night." Pure fear escaped the otherwise cold mask most vampires wore. "I don't want to die."

"We're not going to die."

"After they drain me they will go after you."

Nervousness broke through the numbness of his skull and entered into his veins. The other man was beginning to infect him with his despair.

"No." His mouth became slack, his eyebrows closing in on each other. "No, no, no. I'm not like you. My blood isn't addictive."

"Has a human ever tasted you, boy?"

"Well, no but—"

"Then how do you know for sure?"

"I'm not like you!" He insisted. "I eat food. I can walk in the sun. I have a beating heart—"

The CIA agent jerked his head towards the Weres. "You think that matters to them? You are payment for their capture. The dogs provide protection and she gives them our blood as a treat. She even partakes in it herself."

"You are not human here, Mr. Stackhouse. In their eyes, you are just as much a vampire as I am."

The words attached themselves to his mind, sinking in. These people weren't going to give him any mercy, as evidenced by the talking corpse beside him. Unless Eric, Mr. Compton, or whoever else found him quickly, he might not live for much longer. He was chained and drugged; right where the witch wanted him.

Oh god. Bile rose in the back of his throat. The beat of his heart quickened. He had no one to rely on for rescue but his friends, who probably didn't even know where he was. Eric would look for him for sure, but would he still be alive by then? His attention switched to the front door, the echoing of feet making their way toward them.

The magic user returned dressed in a black robe. The supes in the room quieted down, their attention drawn to the object in her right hand. Mr. Helms stiffened. Now, his entire body reeked of dread. It practically came off him in waves, the contamination similar to a deadly bacteria in Bo's body. He struggled to keep his eyes on the witch.

"May Sliaba bless us in our time of need. Winds of the north and south praise her. May Sliaba bring retribution to the unclean and burn all foes who stand in her servants' way. Fire from beginning and end exalt her. Let us find strength in these times and feast upon what is given to us."

He shivered, his blood running cold. Bo tried to move away, but the chains and drugs prevented him.

The dagger was ancient if the handle and scratches were any indication. Words glowed on the sides, flashing every time light hit the metal. He could see heat rising from the dagger, it was almost mesmerizing. This was no ordinary weapon; this was a ceremonial blade, and a magical one at that. Was that her talisman? Closing in, she began with the vampire next to him. Only the sizzling flesh of the male as he tried to move away and the crawling of the V addicts registered in his mind.

He watched the witch pull up the sleeve of the undead man, where burns in slit-like patterns adorned his wrist. Using the dagger as precisely as a surgeon, she cut across slowly, all the while watching the man's expression. Agony, dismay, disgust—he could almost hear the blood bubbling up as the skin fried around it. The vampire opened his mouth; nothing came out. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, as though he were unable to process what was taking place. The burns spread on his arm, branching out in every direction.

After handing over the vampire to the closest wolf, she moved on to the boy. Their gazes were locked, as though no one else was in the room.

"Sliaba knows of your transgressions, unnatural one. Your mother killed my kin, and now I shall punish hers."

Her expression was determined, concrete in the face of his distress. There was no talking her out of it; any morality had long left the building.

The dagger sank into his left leg like a knife into butter. He couldn't speak. A shrill, agonizing scream resounded in his ears. It took him a moment to realize it was him.

Her lips touched the burning wound, licking up the juices exiting from it. He could feel the unseen flames lapping up his tendons and muscles as though it were a kitten drinking milk. Her mouth smeared with his life blood, she grinned madly.

"You will know the pain I have felt, monster. Until your last breath, you are mine."

Even through his gasping breaths and tears, the boy threw her a defiant glare. "Go blow yourself, hag face."

The knife twisted in her grasp.

It was the last thing he remembered.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

**Hey, it's been awhile. Sorry for not updating in March. Thank you for all the lovely reviews you have given me. A big thanks to Wandersfar for revising this! Hope you enjoy.**

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><p>Chapter 27<p>

If the torture didn't kill him, the country music sure would.

Bo _really_ should have stayed in Eric's car. He could have been asleep in his soft warm bed, instead of sitting in this filth and looking like a victim at a murder scene. Memories tangled together in a twisted knot. Was it daytime or night? How long had he been there, chained to a post like a mistreated dog?

Every waking moment commenced with pain and ended with the sweet relief of unconsciousness. His nostrils filled with the mingling of wet dog and his own lifeblood, the other vampire already long gone. He couldn't pinpoint when it occurred, possibly between the third or fourth time he awoke, when Bo discovered one of the supes lapping up a bloody pool of the man's remains.

He licked his cracked lips. They had neither feed nor provided anything to drink since his arrival, and that fact alone was taking a huge toll on his sanity. The sight of half-finished beers littering the area around the wolves wasn't helping either. He struggled not to moan every time one of them popped open a drink or came close enough for him to zero in on their jugulars. Water or blood, it didn't matter anymore. Anything to relieve the constant searing knifes hitting his body, especially in his throat.

His resolve to live was beginning to be replaced by a desire for the end, to meet death's open arms. He was so close to the edge now. It frightened him.

Tim McGraw began to blare. Like most women in country songs, death left him for another poor soul.

Thoughts drifted slowly in between the nodes of his brain. The hunger had taken over more and more of his concentration. Fire slipped down his throat every time he swallowed. Reluctantly, he was starting to take a backseat to the darker desires inhabiting his body, and he could do nothing about it. The drugs the witch gave him left him exhausted and unable to move. It felt like he was disappearing from the world, watching everything from a third person standpoint.

He looked down and grimaced, the damage non too pretty. His leg wound looked enflamed and felt hot to the touch, a fetid odor beginning to arise, whatever the hell that meant. Parts of his skin were red and flaking off in places as well, the constant burning and healing taking a tool on his health. One of the wolves had cut up his face pretty bad with a pocketknife; each sharing his blood like Bo was a fucking appetizer at a mixer. Even the chains were causing him to break out into rashes where they touched, but those were the least of his problems.

Whatever the witch was using, it was effective. He could feel everything and yet not lift a finger to stop it. It was infuriating. The silver coated restraints entangled themselves around his neck and torso extensively, ending at his wrists where the lock was placed. They stripped him naked at some period in the torture, he just couldn't remember when. Time was relative here.

The hallucinations weren't helping his predicament. The witch's poison was causing some unusual side effects. Or maybe they were on purpose, to torture him psychologically, too. Either way, the illusion before him brought up feelings Bo hadn't had since the funeral.

A beautiful blonde of indeterminate age sat beside him, stroking his face with one hand. Her sun-kissed skin was unlined, except for when she smiled at him. Clad in a white gown and sandals, she radiated warmth and comfort. The muscles in his face went slack.

He coughed, the taste of copper in his mouth. The corners of his eyes grew wet. "Why do I have to hallucinate you? Why couldn't it have been Pam in a bikini, or Rose in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit? What did I do to deserve this torture?"

"Oh Bo, you dufus," sighed, her tone melancholy. "What am I going to do with you?"

He tried not to gaze into her eyes in fear she might disappear. "I wish you had told me more about yourself. About what I really was."

"I know. It was a stupid mistake on my part," she shifted to a more comfortable position, her dress flowing to the side.

"Why? Why didn't you tell me?"

"So many things were happening. Eric and I had broken up, my friends all had problems of their own, and then you came along. I was so terrified. You weren't supposed to be possible. I think maybe, in some small way, I wanted to get away from all of my troubles, all of this baggage my time here gave me. You were my ticket out. You helped me finally choose. No more vampires, no more werewolves, no more tragedies, no more heartbreaks. Just you and me, kiddo."

"Did you ever miss Bon Temps?"

"Always. It was the place I grew up."

"It's not so bad there, I think. At first I was scared, but I think I'm adjusting to living alone. Not that I'm truly alone, it just gets a little lonely at times."

"Being scared is a natural part of growing up," she commented softly, her southern accent comforting him like a warm blanket.

"I'm sorry I said I hated you that day. I shouldn't have run out on you, I could have come back home sooner." He started to babble, "I stayed over too long at Mike's house. You would probably still be here if I hadn't picked a fight with you."

"You can't play 'what if,' Bo. You didn't do anything wrong. You were a teenager. You still are a teenager, for gosh sakes."

He could feel his eyes water more, his face hot with grief. "Even when you say that, it doesn't make me feel any better. I miss you so much sometimes."

"I know Bo-bear. I know."

"Did you ever regret having me?"

She kissed his forehead, though the action left no sensation. "Of all the things I've done in this world, you are the last thing I regret. I'm so proud to have been your mother. I will always love you, with all my heart and soul."

"I love you too, mom." He whispered, his eyes downcast. The moment he looked back she was gone. A mournful sigh escaped his mouth.

"Is there a reason I'm in this delusion of yours?" A bored voice asked.

Bo looked up and cringed. His depression was replaced by repulsion soon enough. The image of Bill Compton in a clamshell bikini would forever scar his poor retinas. Bo closed them immediately. When he reopened his eyes, the man had changed into a more comfortable outfit of slacks and a white button down under a grey sweater vest.

"I was almost expecting Eric," Bernard coughed. His tears had dried after his first hallucination.

Bill lifted an eyebrow. His features were as stone cold and unreadable as always. "Eric? As the voice of reason? Don't make me laugh."

"You can laugh?"

The vampire turned his head as if to leave. "I should get back to my database."

"No! No, please stay. What do you think I should do?"

"About what?"

"I'm so scared about losing my humanity at times, and this is one of them. I'm not so sure how much longer I can hold on. How do you do it? How do I fight this burning feeling?"

"It is not something you can simply fight, Bernard. I tried for years to mainstream, and even I have occasionally broken the rules. Truth be told, even the living are not always subject to logic and the greater good. The world is not as black and white as you may have once believed. It is full of gray; the life you live is as well."

He hung his head, clenching his teeth together. "That's not helping me at all."

"I am your voice of reason; I don't have to make sense." Mr. Compton walked past him into a wall, as if it were normal.

"_Gee_, thanks, Bill. You were a big help", he grumbled, "_I am reason; I don't have to make sense_. Yeah, nice fucking proverb. Stick that up your ass next time I see your stinking face…"

"Finally, he's gone. I thought he would never leave."

The Viking wore a black suit and a loosened red tie. His long mane of hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, cascading off his shoulder. The word "deadly" came to Bo's mind. He crouched before Bo with a smirk on his face, like a cat that had caught a canary.

"Nice predicament you've put yourself in."

"Fuck you, Eric."

"Maybe you should have waited in the car like I told you." He shrugged his shoulders, "But you are Sookie's son. Trouble always follows you two. Or in your case, you made a stupid decision and fell into a trap. Honestly, Bo. Barbecue ribs? I didn't think gullibility was hereditary."

"Who are you supposed to be in this fucked up delusion of mine? The voice of pissing me off?"

"No, unfortunately Bill got there first. I'm just good old Eric, the one who's going to save your ass."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"It's not me who's going to do it. It's you."

"Me?"

"Yes. The answer is simple. You need to feed."

"I'm not a vampire, Eric. I don't drink from humans," he said. "Besides, there's no way I can get out of these bonds. I'll never make it out the door without someone noticing."

"These aren't humans, Bo. They are fucking dogs." Anger filled Eric's voice. "Look at what they have done to you. I would skin them one by one and feed on them in front of their comrades. They do not deserve to be called humans. They are animals that need to be put down."

"That's not right, Eric. They have families too. A few even have children."

Eric reached down to touch the side of Bo's face, where his illusory mother had not long ago. "Don't you ever make me have to bury my own son in the ground. I've already lost my lover. I refuse to lose my own flesh and blood, too. You can swear up and down how human you are, but we know it's not the truth. The scent of their blood, the sound of their hearts; it excites you. You can train a wolf to fetch and play, but he is still a wolf. You and I both know this, even when you say different. It's time to take action. Don't let your humanity get in the way of your survival."

His attention moved downwards, avoiding the man's eyes. "I don't think I can accept that, Eric. I can't let it control me. I won't."

"I know you won't; you're too much like your mother. But you don't have to agree. The thirst won't let up, not until it's satisfied." The vampire king returned to his earlier position, gazing at the wall. "It's only a matter of time now."

The pain went up a notch; the agony was incomprehensible. Dear god, the hunger was driving him insane. Every moment felt like an eternity, his own body eating him alive. The pounding of his heart was erratic, offbeat and painful, as though a knife had wedged itself inside. The disappearance of Eric from his mind's eye left him with no distraction. His fangs pierced his dry lips. The blood only made him hungrier, greedier for more.

Vials of his and the dead vampire's blood were the chips in the werewolves' poker game. Jamie was the Were who injected him with the witch's drug every five hours. Danny and Richie, the two Weres that helped kidnap him, flanked him on each side. Danny was a pot-bellied man in the throes of middle age, already balding. He was new to the V, the rest of the group thinner and more ragged in appearance. Since the moment the half-dead teen woke up, Danny had been sneaking glances at him. Bo knew that look intimately now: the wolf was hungry.

"Dammit, I fold." Jamie said after three minutes of silence. Out of the pack, Jamie was the fittest and therefore alpha, though that wasn't saying much. Gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes did not describe a healthy person. None of them were really.

Richie laid his cards down, defeated. "Me too."

"This game is boring. How long until we can have more blood?"

"Patience, Dan. The witch will be back in a couple of hours. We can drink then."

"Screw the witch. All we've been doing is her dirty work. How much longer are we gonna stick with this broad anyway? Seems like a waste of time to me, just siting here and watching over the bloodsucker. He ain't going anywhere."

"Shut up, Danny," interrupted Richie, another werewolf in his late thirties. "We haven't even run out of vials yet and you keep wanting to drink from the source."

"That's 'cause all you guys do is water down the stuff we get. We drank from him the first night, so why can't we now?"

"God, all you do is whine, whine, whine." Jamie responded. "Shit. We only have two beers left."

"I heard Wendy's got some in the cooler near the house," Richie replied.

Jamie stretched, getting onto his feet. "Good. You get the brewskies and I get the nachos. Sound good?"

"What about the fanger?"

Jamie sighed. He sent a bored look to Danny. "Think you can watch him for five? Or would that be too much to handle for you?"

"I ain't a idjit."

"Just don't touch the goods until the witch gets back."

"I won't." A lie if Bo ever heard one.

When the two men were gone, the elder supe made his move. Danny, round and ruddy, quickly stepped over the table and scampered toward the boy. A former marine and divorcee (listening was about the only non-painful thing Bo could do), Danny had fallen into addiction after losing a custody battle over his three children and being foreclosed upon by his mortgage company. He moved in with his cousin Jamie sometime in the last year, ultimately ending up with this job.

Hiring a group of addict supes had been Tina's first and only solid objective, surprising since she was so over the coop. Perhaps she did it while she was still sane, Bo speculated. Tina probably knew she couldn't stay in New York after killing his mother, which led her to follow him down south. Leave one murder scene to commit another, like killing two birds with one stone. What she didn't take into account was that covens weren't exactly looking for psychotic firestarters.

She still had not gained acceptance in any of the Louisiana covens, which pleased Bo greatly.

He groaned. He was so hungry. The poison was not as strong now, his last dose had been hours earlier. The werewolf's loud, thunderous pulse wasn't making it any easier. He could see the veins on Danny's hands and neck, teasing him. So close, and yet so far away.

No, thought Bo. He wasn't a monster.

"But they are…" Eric's voice whispered silently in his ear.

He could feel a war breaking out in his head, the famished creature versus his own conscience. Jaw clenched, Bo tried to fight off his darker desires, but the need to feed was insatiable. He was losing the battle.

The werewolf appeared unperturbed by the inner war inside the teen. Danny's calloused hands searched for a place to take blood that wouldn't be seen by others. Most of the dhampir's body was damaged in some way or form, but Danny avoided the places the witch had used entirely, which was almost humorous. The Were had standards apparently.

An idea came to him.

"H-hey." Bo's voice was thin, the wolf could barely hear it properly. "If you're looking for a good place to stick that needle into, you should try my wrists."

"I ain't fallin' for that, kid. You think I'm stupid?"

"Stupid?" The teenager affected soft surprise. "Of course not. But your company isn't too smart. What's a guy like you doing with a group like that?"

"They're pack, fanger."

A strange sensation clouded Bo's senses. It felt tingly, refreshing almost. He clung to it, the hunger encouraging him.

"But you're not the leader, are you?"

"Well… no, not really."

"Wouldn't you like to be? Jamie's nice, but he's sick. Not exactly great packmaster material." Testicular cancer in the early stages, or so he heard in one of the Weres' conversations.

"Jamie keeps things together just fine. He's the reason we can get V."

"But only once in awhile, right? Nothing like what you could do," he leaned in closer, catching the man's eyes. "You want to be packmaster."

Danny paused, fixating on Bo's dilated pupils. The Were's eyelids drooped slightly, as if he were under a spell. "Yeah, I do. "

"You want V more often."

"Of course. It's the best thing out on the market."

"You know, the best way to get V is through a vampire's wrists. Fast access and easy to conceal. Nobody will ever know."

The were's hands fumbled with the chains, movements sluggish. "Is…Is that so?"

"You betcha, Danny.", said the dhampir, his gaze unwavering. "But you already know that. What, with you being the future packmaster and all."

"Yes, yes, of course," Danny's eyes widened, realization dawning. "Screw Jamie and his buddies. I'm gonna start my own pack, one that can get real things done."

"I'm sure you would make a great packmaster, Danny."

The lock to the shackles sprung open. Bernard touched his reddened, smooth skin, marveling at how clean it was compared to the rest of his body. He glanced up at Danny, who didn't even bat an eyelash, just standing there with a blank expression on his face. Bo smiled sheepishly. It was the last thing he would recall.

A second later he tore the Were's throat out.

Danny's scream never left his mouth. Other than gurgling, he made little noise. Consumed by hunger, the creature relished the hot syrup-like blood pouring out, whetting its thirst for more. Its movements were jerky and quick, no longer a boy, but a monster. Outside of the shack, footsteps fell, coming closer.

"You think we can ask the witch to get us some more nachos—holy fucking hell!"

Breaking the neck of its first meal, the bloodsucker threw him at the door with one hand. The two men at the entrance toppled over. They struggled to push the fat man off of them.

It grabbed the packmaster's head and pulled it off, bringing forth a fountain of red. It dipped its tongue into the bleeding gash, lapping up the fluid like a cat with a saucer of milk.

The other drainer gaped, eyes crazed.

"Jesus H. Christ! Oh god, oh god! Please don't kill me! I'm begging you! I've got family, two kids! Please, don't do this! I promise, I'll never drain again!"

The creature formerly known as Bo stepped over the other two bodies swiftly. It took the hand of the other man, as though it were going in for a handshake. Richie relaxed slightly. It bared its fangs in a mock smile, flesh and blood stuck between its teeth. The werewolf tried to move away, whimpering. The creature wrenched the arm away, tearing the limb completely off. The violent scream was music to its ears. It stepped over the bleeding man, kicking him in the head. The screams became silent. It crouched down, looking at Richie's body. Something kept trying to rise to the surface, a thought of some sort. It blinked. The moment passed just as it came.

The only voices in its head were of violence and hunger, driving the creature to find its next meal.

Angry voices rose outside, the scent of copper mingling with the air drawing their attention. A few of them were fearful, realizing that maybe this hadn't been a good idea.

Cracking its neck from side to side, the monster of bloodlust licked its fingers, relishing the taste. It dropped the werewolf's arm to the side, the limb no longer interesting. Ravenous, it ran into the open night, ready to begin its hunt.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.**

**Thank you all for the reviews! I revised Chapter 27 along with publishing this new one. I just finished exams so hopefully I will get out more chapters over the summer sooner rather than later. Hope you enjoy! **

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><p>Chapter 28<p>

The first sensation he felt came from stepping on a cockle burr. Bo flinched. The pain was sharp and immediate, catching him off guard. He swiped it off, taking in the scenery around him along the way.

Wind brushed past his form, caressing him with its cool fingers. It shifted and flowed like water, leaves carried amidst the dense woods. Stars shone bright and alluring above, as if they were only for Bo to see. A white celestial body smiled down on him; he laughed in reaction. He'd never seen the sky so clear. He wished all his dreams were like this.

How long had he been dreaming? For eternity? A blink of an eye? He couldn't recall. Something in the back of his mind told him remembering would only bring him back to reality, a subject he was not inclined to join at the moment.

A winding road lay ahead of him, the pavement cool under his naked feet. What was he doing here again? Bo surveyed the area, confusion settling in. Black vans followed slowly behind, showering him with their high-beams.

Ahead of the group, two men walked cautiously, as though they were approaching a dangerous animal. Dressed in the colors of the night, they would have blended in well if not for their almost glowing complexions. The shorter of the two wore a bandage around his neck. The faces were familiar, their names on the cusp of his awakening conscious.

"How much longer do you think he'll go?", one asked.

"It's hard to say. At least he's not attacking people anymore."

"Only the ones that don't provoke him."

"What are you insinuating, Eric?"

"I'm saying that _perhaps_ it wasn't the brightest idea to go in with a pistol when you couldn't even shoot it correctly. No wonder your side lost the war."

"I would not have been in there had a certain _king_ not lost the boy. How hard is it to lose your own son in your own territory in the space of 10 minutes?"

"I told him to stay in the car."

"And you believed he would stay there?", the man said.

"Yes, I ordered him to. Why wouldn't he?"

"He's not one of your vampire children like Pam is. The boy is volatile and impulsive. You should have known better than to leave him out there in the open like that."

"How the hell was I supposed to know she would strike so suddenly? She's an elusive bitch, that's for sure."

"The king of Louisiana, with all the vampire forces and technology he could ever hope for, couldn't find a little witch and her pack of weres?"

"How rich. It's not like you can do any better, Mr. President of useless data. Who was it that found their hideout? Oh, yes. That was me. Not you, the computer whiz."

"How dare you discredit what I have done in this search, Eric."

"_King_ Eric."

"The only kingly thing about you is your pompous ass."

"Staring at my ass, Bill? I didn't know you swung that way. Is that why you are so invested in Bo? Wanting to get a bit of Sookie through another manner? Never thought you were that twisted."

"How dare you, you—"

"Jesus, will you two ever stop bickering!" Bo yelled, ready to tear out his own hair. Their voices were like sledgehammers to his brain. His fangs ran out, emotions flaring up. "Just, please. Stop yelling."

He covered his ears, a headache starting to form. Sounds from all over began to close in; as if someone turned up his hearing capacity tenfold.

Dizziness overwhelmed him. Crouching low, he tried to focus on his spot. Everything was too bright, too loud—too much. He heard quick footsteps approach, pausing a few feet away. Suddenly, a large hand grasped his shoulder, pulling him up. His stomach sloshed around from the movement.

"Are you . . .with us again?" Eric said, keeping a firm hold on the boy.

Eric bent down to his son's eyelevel. Black pupils nearly overtook the irises so similar to the Viking's own. The color looked even more haunting in the dark. He should have stopped this, prevented all of this from happening. He never should have allowed the young man—no, not a man, just a boy really. To be taken from him so quickly and brought to a state such like this? The thought of it drew white fire from the pit of his stomach. That bitch would pay. The king struggled to keep his face neutral, the anger rising.

"I don't feel so good." Bo said, and emptied his stomach contents soon after the statement.

The king of Louisiana shifted around swiftly, holding his child by his stomach. Bo lurched again, his body rejecting whatever could be found.

"Ew," Eric said.

Bo snorted. Vomit and vampires were natural enemies it seemed. He wiped his mouth. Disorientated and giddy, he leaned against Eric for support.

"Where are we?" His focus went in and out, unable to fully process all the enhanced details around him. The muscles in his calves felt tingly and worn-out, like he just ran a marathon.

"You don't remember?" Mr. Compton moved forward, careful to avoid the mess he made.

"No, not really. I was in the witch's shack and then nothing." The teenager tried to grasp the bits and pieces of his memories, but they were too far away for him to catch. "Suddenly I'm walking down a road. Why am I walking on a road? Where is this place?"

He looked down again and giggled. This dream was just getting sillier and sillier. "Hey look, Eric. I'm naked."

"I think we've all noticed that, Bo." His father observed with a small smirk, expression closer to the Eric that Bo knew. "Looks like we share other things too."

The boy squinted, taking in the now reddish hue of his body. The color was everywhere, leaving no part unmarked. Curious and less inhibited than normal, he licked the front of his hand. It tasted good. Really good. He continued tasting himself, reveling in the flavor.

Eric slapped his hand away, using his other hand to steer his head away. "Stop that."

"But it tastes good." The dhampir tried to taste his hand again, only to be yanked away by his hair.

"Of course it tastes good. It's blood."

"Oh…" He glanced at the limb again. He couldn't think straight, emotions coming and going like a subway train. "Fuck me. Is it human?"

"No, just dog."

"What kind of dog?" The delirious boy questioned, "Fuckstick. Did I eat someone's pet?"

"Not necessarily." Eric said.

"I'll go get a blanket," Bill said, walking back to the vans closing in on them. The Civil War veteran gestured something with his hand, a signal that seemed to ease the tension in the air.

Bo rolled his head from side to side, a dreamy smile planted on. He used some of the wet blood on his face and smeared it across Eric' forehead. Surprise and soon displeasure were his father's reactions. Bo laughed.

"I pronounce you Simba, king of the lions, elephants, penguins, and whatever else lives in the goddamn savanna."

"I'm going to remind you of this day for the rest of your life. I can assure you of that." Eric sighed, exasperation dissipating. "No, no I won't. Damn it. You're lucky you're my son. I thought I'd lost you for a moment there."

A dozen or so vampires got out of the vans, each moving with a purpose. The bright low beams of the cars were distracting, almost painful to his eyes. He groaned, wanting to shrink away from everything around him. Eric's hold was as hard as steel however.

"Is this a dream?" Bo gazed at his father, eyes dilated and unfocused. He noticed a certain shoe queen talking with another vampire. "Why isn't Pam in a hot red bikini serving me smoothies?"

She turned sideways and rolled her eyes at him. Maybe he should have whispered that comment.

The king raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't like Pam."

"Of course I don't. Doesn't mean she isn't hot though."

"So you do have a libido. Thank god. I was starting to get worried." He loosened his hold on Bo's wrist, the man's other hand making sure his son didn't fall over. "Unfortunately, this isn't a dream."

He visually deflated. "That sucks."

"I agree. This was not how I wanted to spend my Friday night."

"It's Friday? That means I've been gone for two days then. Christ."

"Yes. Your mother's family is very distraught. I'll call them for you later if you'd like."

He nodded his head, shoulders drooping slightly. "Yeah. That would probably be good." Guilt flooded through his mind like a river, sharpening his awareness.

"Would you like to sit down for a bit?"

"Only for a little while. My feet are getting sore." He broke away from the older male, positioning himself on the curb. His soles were caked in dry blood and mud. "Dang. Okay, bad idea. My muscles are killing me now."

"That's not unexpected."

"How far did I walk?"

"Far enough. You were running for most of the way."

Two vampires washed away his footsteps with a hose while a third got out cleaning supplies. The rest were either on their phones or stood guard around the vicinity. Some dressed in head to toe black armor. The rest were more or less in dark casual. Like Eric and Bill, many were not in their cleanest state. Every moment or two they switched their attention to take a peak at him. There was a sense of apprehension from them, as though he might snap at any second. What had he done to cause such a reaction?

"What happened to me, Eric? Why am I covered in blood?" He asked, "Please, tell me. I'm sick of not knowing what's going on. Why is everyone so uneasy? Did I do something wrong?"

"We need to get him stabilized." Bill stepped in, throwing a dark blanket over the young male's shoulders. Mr. Compton lowered to the boy's level, taking notes on his eyes and overall mental stability. "There does not appear to be too much damage at this point in time. His eyes are still partially unfocused but he appears to be more in control than earlier. Get him to the car soon. We have two hours until sunrise."

"Why can't I concentrate? Why is everything so loud and bright? Why—"

Eric wrapped the blanket tighter around the boy's body. "I'll explain everything in the car."

"I don't think I can get up." He tried moving his legs. They protested back, hot flashes of pain echoing up and down the appendages. He pulled his limbs in, trying to push all the strange sounds and smells out. Bo strengthened his hold on the sheet covering him. All he wanted to do was go home.

Without warning, the vampire lord picked him up. He struggled to get out of the man's grip.

"What the hell? Put me down! I'm not a girl, damn it."

"So you can crawl your way to our van?"

"Yes, if I have to." Bo declared, embarrassment starting to worm its way back into his consciousness. He was a man, darn it. Even if he wasn't exactly right in the head just yet. "You are jeopardizing my manliness. Put me down. Now."

"You know, as hilarious as that would be to watch, I'm going to have to pass." He cast the boy a weary glance, eyes burning bright in the night. "I'm not sure whether to be furious at you for disobeying me that evening, or relieved that you're alive."

"Can I go home after this?" Bo slumped, too tired to continue his battle of masculinity.

"In time, maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We will speak of it later. For now, sleep."

"At least answer one of my questions. I hate being so out of the loop here."

"What was your last clear memory?"

"I was in the shack chained up. They did a lot of shit to me." His breath hitched. "I was having hallucinations. I saw mom again."

Eric stopped for a moment mid-stride, his features rock hard and impossible to read. Only his eyes whispered any sort of sentiment. "And after that?"

"Not much more. The last thing I remember was one of the weres coming closer and then . . . Nothing. I've got nothing."

"How many mutts were there when you captive? About 7 or 8?"

"Yeah, I think. How did you know?"

"That's what we found from the bodies, or what was left of them. When we arrived the last was still struggling in your grip."

A burning sensation erupted in the middle of his chest. His only law, the one that he lived by religiously, broken. "I killed human beings?"

Eric tightened his hold, jaw set in stone. "You killed rabid dogs. You should be glad they're gone."

Dismay rushed to the surface. Clarity was sneaking back into his body at an alarming pace. "I murdered people, with my own hands. "

"You did what was best for you."

He let out a weak laugh, shaking slightly. "I'm a_ fucking _monster."

"You are not a monster, Bo. I've killed many people. I even regret some of them. But I never regret living afterwards. You were being tortured. Do not take pity on creatures such as them."

"How the hell is that supposed to make me feel better?" He slid his head into his hands, shock rattling his system.

"It wasn't. Your hunger got the best of you, as it has all of us at one point. You can't avoid death in our world."

He shook his head, refusing to listen. He never should have left New York, never should have met any of these people. All he could think about was his lose of control. How could he have lost control? Why did he have to lose the one thing that set him apart from _them_? "I don't want to be apart of your stupid world anymore. I don't have to be."

"You've always been apart of my world from the moment you're born. There's no escaping what you are, Bernard." He opened one of the side doors to a car. "This is evidence of that."

The blood-splattered teen slumped against the car seat after he was placed down. Shame ate at his insides like vultures to a carcass. "How could I lose myself like that?"

"The thirst has never been a kind master."

"I just killed a group of people. I'm a murderer. God, what's going to happen to me?"

"Nothing at all. Everything is fine now."

"Everything is _not_ fine right now! Have you not heard anything I've said?" He looked down at his skin, horrified realization dawning. "Oh god. This is their blood, isn't it? I'm covered in their blood. Oh god, oh god . . ."

Eric stared on, his vampire mask on fully. "I have taken care of everything. Do not feel guilty about killing the dogs. You did what any vampire would have done in a situation like that."

"What? Killed and feasted on them?"

"Yes."

"But I'm not a vampire, Eric. I'm not."

The ruler pulled himself into the car, moving Bo's legs. "No human would have done something like that, Bernard. Keep denying what you are, and this will happen again. Do you want to kill another person out of mad-thirst?"

"No, never. I don't want to be a murderer," he said.

"Then stop trying to run away from what you are. It will only get harder if you keep trying to."

He let out a deep breath, the night's events left him feeling disgusting inside and out. "I hate this so much."

Eric brushed the boy's bangs to the side with his index finger, coating it with blood. He licked the digit clean casually, eyes half-lidded. "I know, son. I know."

Curling inwardly, Bo tried to block everything out, hoping to restore some of his psyche. His body felt weird, transformed inside and out. He was not the awkward city boy with dietary issues anymore. The darker feelings of his heart were stronger and closer to the surface than ever before. And the worst part? He didn't feel nearly as guilty as he said, which only made him feel a different kind of guilt.

Bo pocked his head out of the blanket, getting Eric's attention. Under the fluorescent lighting, the older man appeared haggard, the dark crescents of sleepless nights hanging under his concerned gaze.

For a moment in time, a vulnerability passed between the two, the raw emotions of the evening riding their faces like waves on a stormy day.

"I'm scared, _dad_." Bo admitted, voice shaky. "I don't know what to do."

The king froze, then broke out into a genuine smile, the wariness easing a little from his large shoulders. "I'll take care of everything."

Bo lay against the car door, vision blurring as he slipped into a dreamless sleep. The words were comforting, he thought, but comfort would only get you so far in a world full of monsters. Of course, when your father is a king of monsters that sort of logic might not apply. And now he was one too, a monster. His own worst nightmare come true. He was no longer the Bo of months before and that terrified him.


End file.
